Second Chances
by klarolineepiclove
Summary: Nearly four years ago, Dean Winchester left behind the one thine he cared about most. Now a pleading phone call sends him back to the town he fled, but can he face those he abandoned and the girl who stole his heart?
1. Chapter 1

Second Chances

Ok…so I know that I still have another story in the works, but this has been sitting in my nightstand drawer for the last several months. It just felt so wrong to not post it. I'm a HUGE HUGE HUGE Brooke/Dean shipper. I think they would make THE perfect couple, and I really wish that they could somehow do some crossover episode or something. But this idea came to me awhile ago and I started putting my thoughts down on paper. So this is the result. Let me know what y'all think!!

Summary: Nearly four years ago, Dean Winchester left behind the one thing he cared about most. Now a pleading phone call sends him back to the town he fled, but can he face those he abandoned and the one woman who stole his heart? Or will he be forced to live with the results of his decision?

Author's Notes: Set sometime after the first season finale of Supernatural and the fifth season of One Tree Hill. For this story, Brooke didn't immediately go to New York after the summer was over. She came back to One Tree Hill to start up the company but eventually went into business with Victoria after Dean left.

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Chapter One

The high pitched, trilling laughter was grating his last nerve.

Sam Winchester glanced up from his newspaper, eying his older brother and the blonde bimbo that hung on his arm. He rolled his eyes as Dean crooned something into her ear, and her laughter pealed from her lips again.

If there was one thing his older brother was a pro at, it was finding the easiest girl in a bar and making fast work of the fling that would follow.

Of course, after hunting, that is.

The tabletop started to vibrate suddenly, and Sam reached across, snatching his brother's ringing cell phone. The caller ID read unknown, and Sam looked up, holding it over his head to get Dean's attention. Dean's view was blocked by a head of unnaturally blonde hair, and he sighed.

"Hello?" he said, flipping the phone open.

"Dean Winchester?" a man asked on the other end.

"Uh, no. This is his brother, Sam. Dean's a bit…tied up at the moment." Granted, it was by a pair of freakishly tanned arms, but tied up all the same. "Is there something I can help you with?"

The caller sighed. "Look, I really need to talk to Dean. It's pretty urgent. Is there any way you can get a hold of him?"

The man sounded desperate. Sam sighed. "Hold on," he said, rising from his stool and heading towards the bar. Dean and the girl were locked at the mouth, and Sam lowered his gaze, uncomfortable. He stopped before them and said his brother's name twice before he caught his attention.

"What?" Dean demanded, irritated.

Sam held up the phone. "Guy says it's pretty urgent."

Dean chuckled. "Look, Sam. I'm kind of in the middle of something. Can you take a message?" Sam shrugged and Dean sighed. "Who is it?"

Sam put the phone to his ear and asked. "Says his name is Nathan Scott."

He frowned as the color drained from Dean's face. "Dean?" the phone was yanked from his hand and Dean walked towards the door, phone already pressed to his ear, leaving Sam and the blonde—Marsha, he remembered now—staring after him.

"Okay," Marsha said. "Don't tell me the draft guy called him into war now."

Sam closed his eyes, laughing.

Only Dean.

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Dean held the phone to his ear, not opening his mouth until he stood next to his car and made sure he was alone. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Nathan?"

"Dean," Nathan replied.

"I've got to say, you're one of the last people I expected to hear from." Nathan chuckled quietly on the other line.

They were both quiet for a long moment before Dean spoke again. "To what do I owe the honor? Is…everyone okay?"

Nathan chuckled again. "By everyone, I'm assuming you mean one person in particular. She's fine, don't worry. That's not why I'm calling. I need your help."

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Sam found Dean leaning against the Impala, ankles crossed, a far-off look on his face. "Dude, how the hell you pick these girls is way beyond me," he said, coming to a stop next to him. "I just spent the last ten minutes listening to Marsha complain about the draft, and wondering why football players are so excited to go to war every year." He laughed, shaking his head, then frowned when he caught sight of his brother's somber expression. "Dean?"

No response.

"Dean? What's wrong?"

Dean held up his phone before stuffing it into his jacket pocket. "What was Nathan, an old…friend. Haven't heard from him in almost four years."

Sam nodded. That would be why he'd never heard about him. It had been during their time of no communication. "Okay. What did he want?"

"Help," Dean replied. "He thinks something is hunting kids in his town, making it look like a kidnapping. Says it sounds like our kind of thing."

"Okay, so let's head over there. We haven't had a decent hunt in awhile." He walked over the passenger side of the car and pulled open the door. "Where's he at?"

Dean sighed, turning to look at him. "North Carolina. But we're not going."

"What? Why not?"

"It's just complicated, Sam," he said, pulling open his own door and climbing in. Sam followed suit, frowning, and continued to stare at his brother. Dean kept his eyes forward, gritting his teeth. "Don't," he said. "Don't start."

"I just don't get it," Sam said. "You're the one who always wants a good hunt, and now that we may have one, you don't want to take it. What's so bad about this Nathan guy?"

"It's not Nathan, Sam, so just let it go alright?" He turned the key in the ignition, and the Impala roared to life, AC/DC blaring through the speakers.

"Dean," Sam said, but as cut off immediately.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, smacking the steering wheel. "Drop it."

Sam stared at him, then nodded, knowing that now was not the time to argue with his brother, and sat back as Dean peeled from the parking lot.

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Back at the motel, Dean lied in his bed in the dark, staring at the ceiling, as he listened to his brother's even breathing.

One simple phone call, and suddenly his life was turned upside down.

_"What kind of help?"_

_"The kind that you're an expert at. Kids are disappearing. Kids that go to school with my son, that live in our neighborhood. The cops are saying it's kidnapping, but I don't buy it."_

_"Why not?"_

_"There's no ransom notes, no signs of forced entry. The kids are just gone, with no one seeing anything or anyone." Nathan sighed, and Dean heard the sound of a chair scraping the floor. "Look, you know I wouldn't call you if I thought is was just a kidnapping."_

_Dean nodded, silent._

_"Dean…these are kids that Jamie sees everyday, that play with him all the time. Please. I'm begging you. I need your help."_

Dean sighed, throwing back the covers and switching on the lights in a single motion.

"Get up, Sammyboy," he yelled, tossing his brother's bag onto his bed. Sam stirred, squinting against the light, and looked up at him. Dean pulled his shirt over his head. "Let's go, get a move on. We're burning daylight."

Sam looked at the clock. "It's 3 a.m."

"Whatever," Dean said, stuffing his things into this duffel.

Sam sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and watched his brother dart around their motel room, picking up discarded clothing and books. "Dean, what are you talking about?" he mumbled around a yawn, looking longingly back at his pillow.

"Like you said, Sammy, a hunt's a hung, and Nathan needs help." He smirked at him as he zipped up his bag. "We're going to Tree Hill."

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Yay!! It's finally started!! So review and let me know what you think. I'm posting the next chapter shortly since it's all typed up, but I'd love to hear what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

Second Chances

AN: I'm amazed at how many people put my story on alert already! Thanks so much for the support!

Chapter Two

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Tree Hill, North Carolina was a few hours from Charleston, but it seemed like they had made it there in record time. Sam took in the small businesses, parks and restaurants as they made their way through town.

It looked like just a quaint little town, with teenagers skateboarding down the sidewalks and old men stopping to grab the newspaper.

But Sam knew that looks could be deceiving.

He settled back in the passenger seat and looked at his brother. Dean's eyes were fixed on the road, but every few seconds his head would turn towards a passing building or pedestrian, and his jaw would tighten, either in recognition or disappointment, Sam couldn't tell. But his knuckles were white on the steering wheel and his back was ramrod straight in his seat. Dean was not looking forward to this hunt.

"So, how did you come across Tree Hill anyway?" Sam asked, finally breaking the awkward silence that has plagued them for the last state and a half.

Dean glanced at him before returning his gaze to the road. "Dad and I were passing through," he said, shrugging.

"Just 'passing' through?" Sam asked. "I mean, you must have stayed long enough to get the know Nathan."

"So maybe we decided to stay a week or two," Dean replied. "Nothing weird about that, is there? Dad and I always took breaks in between hunts."

There was much left unsaid in his brother's defensive tone, but Sam knew better than to push the subject in the mood he was in. He let it drop and they continued on in silence as Dean drove out of town, towards the docks and the walking parks.

They pulled into a worn grassy area, coming to stop next to a large basketball court, its cement flooring darkened by spray paint and its hoops torn and deteriorated.

A family of three were its only occupants; a man, woman and child. Sam watched as the boy dribbled a basketball with exceptional skill, trying to weave around his father as his mother smiled and laughed from the picnic table on the sidelines.

At the sound of their car approaching, the woman looked over and her face tightened slightly. She stood up and said something to her husband, motioning towards them. The man looked up and nodded before crouching down and speaking to his son. The boy nodded and began bouncing the ball towards his mother as the man made his way towards them.

Dean took a deep breath as he shut off the car, and Sam could have sworn he muttered "God help me" under his breath before he motioned for Sam to follow. They climbed out of the car and met the man its hood.

Nathan Scott was not an old man, as his weary voice had led Sam to believe. In fact, he didn't look much older than himself. He stood with his hands on his hips, a light sheen of sweat on his brow, dark hair matted to his head. His cut off t-shirt was damp, and his jogging shorts clung slightly to his calves. His blue eyes were squinted against the sunlight, but Sam couldn't mistake the look of weariness they held as he took them in.

As much as Nathan may need his help, he wasn't exactly pleased to see Dean.

"Dean," he said, nodding to him. "I'm actually kind of surprised you came. After we talked the other day, you said you couldn't come."

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, well, the other hunt fell through," he said, causing Sam to look at him in question. He ignored his younger brother and focused on Nathan. " I called and told you we'd be here."

Nathan nodded. "Yeah, but then again, you're not exactly a man of your word, are you?"

Dean merely dropped his gaze to the ground and Sam frowned. _Since when does Dean take crap from anyone?_ He stepped forward and extended his hand. "I'm Sam Winchester, Dean's brother," he said. "We spoke on the phone."

Nathan nodded and shook his hand briefly before returning it to his hip. "Nathan Scott." He looked at Dean. "Thanks for coming all the same. I know it's awkward, but it's Jamie, I don't really care. My son is more important to me than any past feelings I might have."

Dean nodded, watching as the boy threw the ball over his mother's head and sank a basket. His shouts of triumph made him smile wistfully. "He's gotten big."

Nathan nodded, glancing over his shoulder. "Keep getting bigger, too. Too fast, really, but I guess that how it goes." He swung his head back around, and sighed, shifting uncomfortably. "Look, you should probably know that she doesn't know I called you."

Sam nodded, finally seeing what was so wrong with Dean.

A girl.

Looking over, he saw that Dean's gaze was still on the boy and his mother, but his expression was terribly pained.

Okay, so maybe not JUST a girl.

"I don't know how long we can keep you being here under wraps, but I just wanted to give you a heads up," Nathan continued.

Dean nodded, shifting his weight as the mother and son made their way towards them. "We'll deal with it when the time comes, I guess."

"Dean," the woman said, coming to stop next to her husband. Her short brown hair blew around her face in the slight breeze, giving her a very youthful look. Her short frame seemed even smaller when she stood next to Nathan. Her slim figure was dressed in a button up blouse and blue jeans, and the diamond that glittered on her finger showed her as spoken for.

"Haley," Dean replied. "You look good."

Haley smiled, nodding, and looked him over. "You don't," she said, chuckling. "But then you never did when you were under stress." Her hands rested on the shoulders of her son, and Sam watched the boy peer up at Dean, a curious look on his face. "This must be Sam," Haley continued, bringing his attention back to her. He nodded.

"Yeah, Sam Winchester. It's nice to meet you."

Suddenly, the little blonde boy smiled and looked at Dean. "Now I know where I've seen you," he said in a voice that made Sam grin. "Momma, this is the boyfriend in the picture with Aunt Brooke!"

Sam looked at the boy, startled at his use of the term "boyfriend," and raised his gaze to the others. No one replied to Jamie's comment, but Nathan and Haley exchanged a brief glance with each other before Haley smiled down at her son. "Come on, Jamie, let's go get in the car," she said, looking at Dean apologetically as she steered her son towards their SUV.

Sam looked after them, confused, before he turned back to his brother and Nathan. They were staring at each other, having a silent conversation, before Nathan took a step back. "We should probably head out," he said softly. "Um, I'm not sure where you're planning on staying…"

"The motel in town," Dead replied. "No reason to get you in hot water by putting us up."

Nathan nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. Well, Haley and I have all the newspapers and stuff at the house. What do you say, an hour to clean up then meet there?"

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The silence in the Impala was deafening.

Sam continually cast sidelong glances at his brother, and each time was bewildered by the expressions on his face. They seemed to range from remorse to anger to melancholy.

"Alright, are you going to tell me what's going on here?" he asked finally.

Dean glanced at him. "What?"

"What's the deal with you and this town? This girl that everyone's tiptoeing around? We've helped people you and Dad have known before, but none of them have made you this on edge."

Dean was silent, staring straight ahead, jaw tightened.

"Who's Brooke?"

"The girl," Dean muttered.

Sam scoffed. "A girl? Since when does a girl get to you like this?"

"Not just 'a' girl, Sam, THE girl, okay?" Dean snapped. "She's THE girl. She's the one reason that I was going to give this all up. The fake names, the cheap motels, the hunts. She was it, Sam. She was it."

Sam stared at his brother, shocked by his outburst, and they fell into silence again. They drove another two blocks before he recovered.

"You were really going to give it all up?" he asked softly. Dean said nothing. "And, what, Dad was just fine with this?"

"You know, Sam, contrary to what you believe, Dad wasn't a completely soulless bastard," Dean replied harshly, pulling into the parking lot of the motel and cutting the engine. "He would have done anything to spare us from the lives of hunters, you know that. So yeah, he was fine with it. So just back the hell off, alright?" He opened the door and jumped out, slamming it behind him as he strode towards the check-in office.

Sam sighed, taking a moment to absorb everything that had just been fired at him.

Dean giving up the hunter life for some girl? Wait, THE girl, as he had said. The last girl that had ruffled Dean's feathers had been Cassie, and even then he never referred to her as "the girl" or mentioned retiring early from hunting. Dean loved hunting.

But, apparently, he loved this Brooke more.

"Sam!"

He jumped, snapping his head towards Dean's voice. He was heading towards a room, shaking the keys in his direction. "Grab the bags, we've got to get a move on."

Sam jumped out, grabbing the bags from the backseat and jogging to catch up with him. "Dean," he started as they unlocked the door and trudged inside the sparsely furnished room. "Tell me about her."

Dean tossed the keys onto the table. "What?"

He shrugged, throwing his bags onto one of the twin beds. "Brooke. How'd you meet her?"

Dean laughed. "You rip me a new one about her, now you want to chit chat? Just drop it, Sam. If it all works out right, she won't even know I'm in town. Or ever was, after we leave."

"Fine," Sam said, throwing up his hands in frustration. "Then we don't see her, we leave incognito. But I still want to know." When Dean just stared at him, he shrugged. "You know all about Jessica, Dean. Right down to the aspects I wish you didn't. I just want to get to know the girl that you'd give it all up for." He smiled. "So, what did you sweet talk her in a bar?"

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. "No…she made me crash the car."

_Four years earlier…._

_"Why don't we take in a basketball game? You know, eat some popcorn, watch the cheerleaders? Enjoy the smalltime life?"_

_John Winchester chuckled and glanced over at his smirking son. "And get hauled off by the local police for being a pervy old man checking out the jailbait townsfolk?" he replied._

_Dean laughed, relaxing his hands on the steering wheel._

_"Come on, Dad. We just wasted a whole herd of ghouls in Charleston. Let's do something fun, wind down a bit, before we jump into the next hunt."_

_"And Tree Hill is the place to do that?" John asked skeptically, scanning the open map on his lap._

_"Why not?" Dean asked. "Small, Podunk town, nothing supernatural visibly noticeable. Seems like as good a place as any to kick up our feet for a week or two."_

_He scanned the streets as he talked, eyes trained to spot anything or anyone that seemed peculiar. He glanced at his father, seeing his attention focused on the map, and sighed, turning back to the road. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a jogger and he turned his head to get a better look._

_The girl was a knock-out._

_Her dark hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, and it swayed from side to side with every step her long, shapely legs took. Her jogging pants and tank top clung to her figure in all the right places, revealing a tanned, flat abdomen. Her face was slick with sweat, eyes forward, full lips moving in time to whatever song was playing on the I-pod attached to her hip._

_Dean's gaze was riveted as they passed, and he craned his neck to follow her._

_"Dean, what the hell?" John yelled, and Dean snapped his gaze back to the road in time to see the oncoming telephone pole as the car drifted towards the sidewalk. He swore and jerked the steering wheel to the left. Tires squealed on the pavement as the few pedestrians dove out the way. The Impala jumped the curb, demolishing the mailbox at the corner before crashing through a picked fence and coming to rest in the gutter. Dean and John jerked against their seatbelts before slamming back into their seats, both grunting at the contact. They sat in stunned silence, panting, before all hell broke loose._

_"Dean, what the hell is wrong with you?" John thundered._

_Dean shrugged sheepishly as several people clamored around the Impala, yelling to see if they were alright; if they needed an ambulance. At one bystander's announcement that one had already been called, John groaned. He cast a withering glare at Dean as he unbuckled his seatbelt and shoved open the door. "We're alright, folks," he announced, a friendly smile already on his face. "My son just got stuck in a daydream. No need to panic."_

_Dean blinked, hearing the sirens in the distance, and sighed as he shouldered open the door and stumbled out. He made his way to the hood of the car, groaning when he saw the smashed in bumper and dented hood. "Aw, damn it," he said, hanging his head as he braced himself against his battered car, and listened to his father reassure the crowd._

_A whistle from behind him caught his attention, and he turned around to see his mystery jogger._

_A smirk was set on her flawless face, and her hazel eyes traveled from the dented Impala to him. One eyebrow was cocked coyly, and a pair of earbuds dangled from her neck. She shook her head, chuckling. "Boy, when you aim to catch a girl's attention, you go all out, don't you?"_

_Dean stared at her for a long moment, caught off guard by her appearance, even more by her raspy, sexy voice, before he blinked. "What?"_

_She smiled. "Dude, you weren't exactly subtle with your oogling. I'd be surprised if blind Mrs. Peterson didn't catch it."_

_He shifted on his feet. "Subtlety was never my strong suit," he muttered. She laughed again and he raised his eyes to her face._

_She really was beautiful._

_A squeal of sirens signaled the arrival of the police and Dean exchanged an apologetic glance with his father. He turned back to the girl, a smile on his face, and panicked when she wasn't standing in front of him anymore. He searched the crowd frantically, sighing inwardly when he spotted her retreating figure._

_"Hey!" he yelled._

_She turned back to him, the same smirk on her face. "Yes?"_

_Dean held out his hands, dramatically looking at the scene around him, before meeting her gaze. "I crashed my car because of you. Don't I at least get to know your name?"_

_She laughed. "You first, Speed Racer."_

_"Dean Winchester," he grinned. "And yours?"_

_She shook her head, popping the earbuds back in place and smiled. "Brooke Davis."_

_She turned and started her job again, winking at him before he lost sight of her once more._

"Brooke Davis?"

Sam stared at his brother incredulously, a smile of disbelief on his face.

Dean nodded, pulling various articles of clothing from his duffel bag as he searched for the worn journal that had once belonged to their father, ignoring the tone of Sam's voice.

"THE Brooke Davis?" Sam continued. "Multibillion dollar fashion empire, face on the cover of magazines, Forbes youngest influential person of 2007 Brooke Davis?"

Dead nodded again, tossing the journal on the bed and repacking the bag.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, that's the one," he replied abruptly.

Sam laughed, shaking his head. "Brooke Davis," he murmured, before the smile slipped from his face. "So what happened?"

Dean shrug, back still turned. "I left, Sam. It doesn't take a Stanford graduate to see that." He turned around quickly, pointing at him angrily, successfully cutting him off before he could speak. "Before you even ask, it's because I got scared, okay? Because I'm a God damn coward. It all felt too right and too comfortable and I freaked. We were happy, Brooke and me, just the two of us. Living that small town, fairy tale couple life. I mean, we had our problems and all that crap, but we were happy. And then I just…got this feeling…"

Sam frowned, watching as his brother struggled with the memories and his heart broke for him. He didn't have to explain the "feeling." Sam had gotten it too, right before Jessica died. Months before, actually. That feeling in the pit of his stomach that something just wasn't right. But he'd ignored it. And now Jessica was dead.

"One, stupid little feeling that something was going to happen. And instead of sticking around and fighting, I took off."

Dean's voice cracked at the end of his sentence, and he sat on the bed as he flashed back to that night.

_The TV was droning on in the background, some late night talk show interviewing the latest "IT" star._

_Dean was propped up against the headbead, eyes scanning the headlines of the paper, smiling wistfully as he perused the article about Nathan being signed on the play professionally. "Local boy makes good" and all that stuff._

_That's when he felt it:_

_That chill running down his spine, hairs standing straight on the back of his neck._

_Someone was watching him._

_He stiffened, hand sliding under the pillow to grasp the Boning knife he hid there—"Old habits die hard," he'd always chuckled—as his gaze darted to the closed bathroom door. The sound of the shower was muffled but clearly present, and he focused his attention on whatever was preying on him._

_He'd been a hunter long enough to know when HE was the hunted, and he ran over the last few days in his mind. There'd been no omens, no signs of anything demonic in town. He'd talked to his father just yesterday, and John Winchester had said nothing to indicate anything could be crossing his path. John was crazy about Brooke, and made it a priority to keep an eye on the little town his son had learned to call home._

_So why was he so certain that something was waiting in the wings, stalking him even as his eyes searched for it?_

_"Dean?" a voice from the doorway broke into his thoughts._

_He turned, realizing that he'd been so focused he hadn't heard the shower shut off, and stared at Brooke as she crossed the room towards their bed._

_Her hair was wet, tumbling over her shoulders in dark curls as she shook her hand through it. Her thigh length robe was knotted at the waist, and her smooth legs seemed to go on forever as she curled them underneath her, climbing into bed._

_"Nathan and Haley are throwing a party to celebrate Lucas' book being published, so do you think you can get off from the garage on Saturday so I don't have to go by myself? As much as I love a good party and I'm happy for Luke, I'd be happier if you were there with me," she was saying, crawling under the covers._

_But all Dean could do was stare at her in horror._

_Because he felt the attention that had been focused on him moments ago shift to the woman at his side, and his heart clenched in his chest._

_**No, no, no, he thought. Not her, not now, not ever. You son of a bitch, whatever you are, come after me. Leave her out of this.**_

_Brooke looked over at him when he didn't answer, and her expression turned to concern at the look on his face. "Hey…are you okay?" she asked, touching his hand. "What's wrong?"_

_Dean grabbed her and pulled her in, capturing her lips in a kiss. He felt her relax after a moment, a her hand trailed up his back and underneath his wife beater as she returned the kiss. He pulled away after a breathless moment, and caressed her cheek as he stared into the hazel eyes he could drown in._

_"I love you," he murmured. "More than I can ever say. You know that, right?"_

_Brooke nodded, confused._

_"No matter what, I need you to always remember that," he said, heart breaking with the knowledge of what he was about to do. He had to protect her. At any cost, he had to protect her._

_She smiled uncertainly, covering his hand with her won as she looked at him. "Dean, what's going on?"_

_His only answer was to kiss her again, and push her down onto the bed._

_He stripped the robe slowly from her body, hands exploring caressing, trying to memorize ever inch of flesh, every freckle, every scar. When his fingers trailed over her tattoo, her breath quickened, and she forced him out of his shirt and boxers as fast as they both could manage._

_They made love well into the night, and Dean held her close as she fell asleep in his arms._

_He lied there, listening to her even breathing, and fought against his every need that was telling him to stay._

_His heart was overwhelming, but his hunter instinct won out in the end._

_So he slid from Brooke's embrace and dressed quietly in the darkness before grabbed the packed duffel bag from inside the closet, the one he kept in case John ever needed emergency help._

_He slipped out of the room, not glancing once over at the rumpled bed, knowing that if he saw her sleeping there, he'd never be able to leave._

_And just like that, Dean Winchester walked out of the apartment, and away from the one thing that may have mattered more to him than anything._

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"I called Bobby and he told me where Dad was," Dean said softly, head bowed, as he sat across from Sam on the other bed. "For some reason, I couldn't call him myself. I couldn't make myself explain to him what I'd done." He rubbed his eyes suddenly, as if fighting back tears, and shook his head. "I found him in some cheap motel in Baltimore. He opened the door and saw me standing there, and he didn't say anything. I don't know if he could tell by the look on my face or what, but he just knew, you know? He pulled me inside and just…hugged me." He chuckled. "I'd stayed so stoic the whole trip there, but when Dad wrapped his arm around me, I lost it. I bawled like a little kid for three hours while he told me it was going to be okay. But not once—not one single time—did he tell me I did the right thing."

Sam sat still, staring at his always strong older brother, and tried to see him as that brokenhearted image he had just described. It as much easier than he liked it to be. "You left to protect her," he said softly.

"I left because I was afraid I couldn't, Sam" Dean rasped. "I ran like hell and prayed that whatever wanted her would follow me instead." He sighed, running a hand down his weary face. "There's nothing I can do about it now, right? What's done is done and all that crap? Anyway it doesn't matter. We've got a case to solve."

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Aww…poor Dean. It broke my heart to write his memories down. But I've always liked vulnerable Dean. It gives his character layers when he opens himself up like that.

So, do you think Nathan and Haley can keep the Winchesters a secret for long? You know small towns…everybody's business is everybody's business.

R&R, please!


	3. Chapter 3

Second Chances

I am once again in awe! Thank you guys so much for the support for this story! I'm finding myself kicking tushie to get it updated as soon as possible. Thanks for letting me tell Brooke and Dean's story! You guys are AMAZING!!

Chapter Three

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Nathan and Haley were loaded.

That was the thought that crossed Sam's mind as he sat in the Scott's living room. Dean had told him that Nathan was a pro basketball player whose career had ended when a bar fight went wrong, and that Haley was a recording artist who gave up touring to work on her marriage.

The fact that they were a year younger than him and had already lived their dreams, as well as raising a four-year-old son just added to his awe.

"So the kids are from different families, different parts of the neighborhood. The only connection is the day school," Sam said, eyes scanning the various newspaper articles spread out on the table.

"The first boy disappeared a month ago, the second a week later. Since then, there's been one every week, like clockwork," Haley explained, rubbing her hands together as she rested her elbows on her knees. "So far there are six children missing."

"They closed down the school," Nathan continued. He was standing by the glass veranda doors, watching as Jamie dribbled a small basketball towards a hoop and sunk it in the first shot. His red cape billowed behind him as his tiny legs carried him forward. "The police are saying that it's a serial kidnapper. Parents are keeping their kids inside. The town's spooked."

The front door opened suddenly and Dean walked in, the tie around his neck hanging loosely as he struggled with the knot. "All the kids' homes reek of sulfur," he said, taking a seat on the couch. "The parents all say the windows were locked from the inside, as well as the doors. No forced entry, no signs of struggle. The kids just vanished. EMF was off the wall."

"So there's no pattern? No way of telling who might be next or…what's doing this?" Haley asked.

Dean and Sam exchanged a glance but before either could respond, Jamie's excited yell from outside cut them off.

"Oh, damn it," Nathan said. He spun around. "It's Brooke."

In a matter of seconds, Haley and Dean were on their feet, exchanging panicked, fear driven looks while Sam's gaze traveled between them. "So much for her not knowing we're here," he muttered, staring at his brother's suddenly pale face.

Haley ran a hand through her hair, obviously searching for a solution, before she turned to Dean. "Uh, quick in the bedroom," she said, pointing Dean in the direction of an open doorway. "She parked on the side of the house, she hasn't seen your car." When he just stood there gaping at the door, she slapped his arm and gave him a shove. "Damn it, Dean, go!"

The shove gave him the incentive he needed, and Dean nearly leapt over the couch as he took off for the room, closing it behind him apart from a crack. He peered out, and his breath caught when he spied her outside the veranda door. Her hair was shorter, just coming to her shoulders, but it was the same shade of brown he remembered. She had Jamie enveloped in a hug, and both their laughter could easily be heard. When she straightened, he saw that she was even dressed differently. Gone were the jeans and sexy t-shirt, replaced with her own designer clothes and subtle make-up. She seemed so much more mature; wiser almost. But her smile, her face, her eyes…

They were still the same.

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Sam stood up as the door slid open, nodding at Haley when she motioned to keep quiet and follow along, and faced the girl that had Dean so tied up.

She was certainly beautiful. The magazine covers didn't do her justice. Sam could easily see how she could cause a collision. Her smile was certainly enough to do it.

"Hey Brooke," Haley said cheerfully.

Brooke Davis smiled, her arm still around the little boy, and her eyes soon met his. They squinted a moment, as if trying to place him, before a friendly grin spread further across her face. "Jamie said you had a visitor," she said. "I didn't mean to intrude." She cocked her head. "I know you."

Sam shifted slightly on his feet and chuckled. "Sorry, I don't think so," he said, forcing himself to meet her gaze. "I'm sorry to say that I don't get to cross paths with top notch fashion designers as much as I'd like."

Brooke laughed and Sam saw Nathan give him a thumbs up behind her back. Sam smiled.

"Well, few are so lucky," she said sarcastically. "But…I know I've seen you before."

Haley stepped forward, one hand tangling itself in her hair, the other pointing towards Sam. "Probably at one of Nathan's Smash Ball games," she said, a little too high pitched. "Uh…Stan," she stammered, "plays on his team."

Sam glanced at Nathan and saw him shrug. _Sure, I could play…wait, what the hell is Smash Ball?_

Brooke crossed her arms, glancing at Haley before slowly swinging her gaze back to him. "That must be it then," she said softly, but her tone didn't sound convinced. She smiled then, shaking her head, and glanced down at Jamie with affectionate eyes. "Anyway, I stopped by to see if I could steal my favorite person in the whole wide world away for the afternoon. I'm playing hooky and was thinking about getting some ice cream."

Everyone smiled at the look of excitement that crossed the small boy's face. "Can I, Momma?" he asked, face melting into a perfect puppy dog expression.

"Take your jacket, please," Haley answered after a brief hesitation.

Jamie took off fro the stairs, leaving the adults to chuckle after him. Brooke touched her hand to Haley's shoulder. "I promise I won't let him out of my sight, Hales."

Haley smiled and nodded, and Brooke turned back to Sam. "So, Stan. Where are you from?"

Her tone made Sam wary, as if she were fishing for facts, and he smiled, trying to appear at ease. "Ohio," he said effortlessly. "Moved over this way a few years ago."

She nodded. "And how did you hurt yourself, if it's not rude of me to ask?"

He frowned. "Sorry?" Nathan and Haley winced as Brooke shrugged, smug.

"Well, to play Smash Ball you would have had to be injured pretty badly," she said, glancing at Nathan and Haley, who were conspicuously avoiding her gaze. "I was just curious as to how."

Sam shifted awkwardly on his feet as he racked his brain for a cover story, cursing the unexpected appearance of this girl. Usually he and Dean had flawless covers, having had hours to prepare, but then again, they hadn't planned on Brooke even knowing they were there. "Right, my uh…my injury. Uh…car accident," he said, meeting her suddenly piercing gaze. "My knees were blown out, along with my back and uh…my shoulder, it wasn't too great either." _Damn it._

Brooke scoffed, crossing her arms again. "Right, whatever. You sure as hell aren't a Smash Ball player. I know every face on that team, and you are not one of them. What's going on here, guys," she demanded. "What's with all the secrecy and 'don't tell Brooke' crap? And where the hell have I seen you before?"

Sam froze, trading looks ranging from panic to resignation with his co-conspirators, and he looked over his shoulder to the cracked bedroom door. He could only imagine how overwhelming Dean's anxiety was at the at moment, knowing that his hope of not facing her was now far out the window.

Nathan sighed. "Brooke…I think there's something—"

The sounds of Metallica's _Nothing Else Matters_ suddenly resonated through the room, and all eyes fell to the ringing cell phone that sat on the table.

Sam reached down and snatched Dean's phone up, quickly switching it to silent, before he shook his head. "Sorry, I could have sworn I shut that off," he laughed. But he was the only one.

He looked up to see Nathan and Haley both staring sorrowfully at Brooke, neither able to speak.

Brooke's gaze was fixed on the phone in Sam's hand, her mouth moving in silence as she searched for words. He inwardly kicked himself, suddenly realizing why Dean had chosen that song in particular. He had programmed it right before they headed to Tree Hill, Sam asking why he chose it even though he skipped it every time it came on the radio. Dean had merely shrugged, and said nothing, but know he knew.

It was their song.

Brooke looked at him. "That song," she whispered, taking a step towards him, head tilted upward to see him better. "Why that song?"

Sam sighed, shaking his head, and realized that they couldn't hide it from her anymore. "It's not mine."

Brooke shook her head, glancing between her friends and him, slowly putting the pieces together, just as Jamie raced down the stairs and into the room.

"Can I say good-bye to Uncle Dean before we leave?" he asked, shrugging into his jacket.

Brooke froze, eyes slowly meeting Sam's, and her hand reached up to stifle the gasp that escaped her lips. "Sam," she whispered.

Sam sighed, nodding slowly, and heard the door open behind him. Brooke's gaze slid past his shoulder, and her eyes widened. The color drained from her face. He turned, and the sight of his brother nearly broke his heart.

Dean looked much older than his 27 years, as if he'd aged a decade in a few short minutes. His normally smirking face was no pained, his color pale, eyes fixed on the girl that stood a few feet in front of him. He walked towards her slowly, eyes never once leaving her face, before stopping next to Sam.

No one said a word as the two stared at each other, one is shock, the other in regret. The silence was deafening until Jamie raced over to Dean, oblivious to the heartbreak in the room. He pulled on Dean's hand, and he tore his eyes away from Brooke to crouch down next the boy, forcing a smile. "What up, buddy?"

Jamie grinned at him. "Aunt Brooke's taking me for ice cream."

"That sounds great, bud," Dean answered. "Eat a giant scoop for me, okay?"

Haley hesitantly stepped past Brooke, holding out her hand for her son. "Come on, Jamie, lets go get you in the car. Aunt Brooke will be out in minute."

Jamie nodded and raced for the door, Haley following close behind after throwing an apologetic look at her friend.

Brooke stood there for a moment longer, anger taking the place of her shock, shaking her head as if trying to deny Dean's appearance, before turning towards the door.

Dean stepped forwards, reaching for her. "Brooke--"

She whipped around, smacking his hand away and bringing her furious gaze to his. "Don't," she hissed. "Don't you dare, you rotten bastard." She turned, eyes catching sight of Nathan, and she pointed an accusatory finger in his face. "You have a lot of nerve." She shook her head as she headed towards the door, sending another withering glare in Dean's direction, before sliding it open and slamming shut with more force than was necessary. The whole house shook.

Dean flinched, dropping his hand to his side before slowly turning towards Sam and Nathan. He ran a hand down his ragged face, fighting to keep his emotions in check and slowly sat down on the chair next to him.

"Hell hath no fury," Sam quoted quietly, as Dean hung his head in defeat.

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Brooke sat behind the wheel of her car, staring silently out the windshield at Nathan and Haley's house. The living room window was illuminated, three figures moving throughout the room, and she wondered if one of them was the man she had never expected to see again.

She should have known it was Sam. She'd seen his picture a million times before between Dean and John. The shaggy hair, All-American smile, big brown eyes. She should have remembered.

But, then again, she hadn't wanted to remember.

"Aunt Brooke?"

She glanced in the rearview mirror at the face of her godson, whose expression was a mixture of confusion and exhaustion.

"How come we're still sitting here?" he asked, fiddling with the latch to his booster seat.

Brooke glanced at the clock on her dash, wincing when she realized she had been parked for forty-five minutes. "Just…putting off going in, buddy," she said, smiling at him through the mirror, even as her mind recalled Dean calling him the same thing a short time ago.

"Because of Uncle Dean?" Jamie asked.

She hesitated, heart breaking at his title for Dean, then nodded.

"Because he makes you sad?"

She nodded again, slowly.

"Daddy used to make Momma sad, and she forgave him. They're really happy now, so how come you and Uncle Dean can't be happy too?"

Brooke looked at Jamie's face, taking in his hopeful tone, and blessed his youthful ignorance. She sighed. "It's different from you mom and dad, Jamie," she said softly.

He nodded, looking down at his hands. "I like Uncle Dean," he said. "You're not mad at me because I do, are you, Aunt Brooke?"

She twisted in her seat to stare at him, a look of utter disbelief on her face. "No," she said. "I could never be mad at you, Jamie. Why would you even think that?"

"'Cause you're mad at Momma and Daddy," he said, shrugging.

"I'm not mad at them, Jamie," she said, shaking her head. "It's just a little…complicated." She sighed, turning from his curious face to see Haley slowly walking towards them from the house. She nodded, undoing her seatbelt. "Come on, big guy. Let's get you inside."

They made their way towards Haley, Jamie launching into her arms as soon as he was close enough, and proceeded to tell him about their trip to the ice cream store. He told her that they'd gone for a walk on the docks after that, then to the mall where he'd eaten the biggest pretzel he'd ever seen before in his life. Haley laughed, peppering his face with kisses as he talked, before patting his back and sending him inside for bed. She straightened, facing Brooke with an apologetic smile, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Still pissed?"

Brooke half-smiled, shrugging, before wrapping her arms around her waist. "I'm not sure I ever was," she answered, sighing. "I mean, I WAS, but I don't think at you and Nathan as much as…" She trailed off. "Anyway, I think it was more shock than anything."

Haley nodded. "I'm sorry we didn't tell you we called Dean." She shrugged, sighing. "This whole kidnapping thing has just had Nathan and I scared to death. And after you mentioned that it didn't sound like any normal kidnapping, we called him, hoping that he could solve it before it got any worse. We thought that maybe he could kill whatever the hell it is and be gone before anyone was the wiser. It was wrong, and deceitful, and I'm sorry. We should have given you a heads up instead of having to find out the way you did."

Brooke nodded, eyes flicking to the living room window, where a familiar figure stood, hidden behind the drapes. "He looks different, doesn't he?" she asked quietly.

Haley nodded, looking over her shoulder. "Yeah. He does. Not that Dean ever looked normal or anything," she joked. She turned back, noting Brooke's sad expression and shrugged. "Maybe his leaving took a bigger toll on him than we thought."

Brooke continued to stare at the window, watching as Dean stared at her through the drapes, and fought back the tears that threatened to fall free.

"Not enough, I guess."

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"So, he never mentioned her?" Nathan asked, tearing his gaze away from Dean and looking at Sam.

Sam shook his head. "This is the first I've heard of her. As Dean's girlfriend, anyway. You have no idea how shocked I was to hear it was THE Brooke Davis." Nathan chuckled, and Sam smiled, turning more towards him. "So, Dean really lived here? You know, made friends, did the small-town average Joe thing?"

Nathan nodded, sighing. "Right down to the job as mechanic at the local garage," he said. "I like him, you know. I thought he was a good match for Brooke, even though they seemed so different from each other. That is, until you were in the same room as them and you realized that they were pretty much exactly alike. They fought like crazy, but it never lasted long. They'd be laughing it off the next second and things would be back to normal. We all thought he was pretty content with Brooke, you know? Okay with giving up his hunter lifestyle—which we discovered by total accident, in case you're wondering. Brooke found out first, and she told Peyton, what with them being best friends and all. But neither of them can really keep their mouths shut when they get drinking, so she let it slip once. Dean and Brooke froze while we all laughed, thinking Peyton was tanked. It all came out later, though, and we were pretty okay with it. I mean, they were both happy and, like I said, we thought he was pretty content with that. Then he left."

He looked over at Sam, smiling sadly. "You know, when Dean was around, she was happy. Like crazy happy. She had a whole new idea on her dream suddenly, you know? She was going to keep Clothes Over Bros. small town. She was already an internet sensation, so she was going to stick to that: internet orders, doing the occasional wedding dress request. She was fine with it. Then Dean leaves and she head to New York without hardly a word. She skyrockets her company to multibillion dollar status by making a deal with the Devil." Sam looked at him questionably. "Her mom," he clarified. Sam nodded, relieved. "She was there for a couple of years, making the occasional phone call here, letting us know what was up and asking about Jamie. I think it made her sad to talk to us, though. Like it reminded her of Dean and how close we all were. She put on a good front, but she was pretty unhappy.

"Then, out of nowhere, she comes back to town, decided to start over. Her mom threw a fit, of course, and after a couple heated lawyer battles and a traumatic incident that had her rethinking herself and her life, she signed her whole company over to Victoria. She gave it all up. She's starting a new line from scratch, reevaluating a few things, and she's been pretty happy since then." He frowned. "Until today, anyway."

Haley walked in at that moment, causing all three of them to look towards her. "Where is she?" Dean asked anxiously, turning from the window.

Haley shrugged, closing the door behind her. "Heading home," she replied. "She opted on not coming in. Which, considering our exchange earlier, was probably for the best. She's still pretty pissed, and you know Brooke."

Dean nodded, chuckling softly. He remembered quite a few times he'd gotten himself in hot water with Brooke and was left to face her temper. She'd even slapped him a time or two when she was angry enough, and it stung for days later. His girl sure had some fight in her.

He frowned.

No. Not his girl. Not anymore.

"So, now what? Now that the cat's out of the bag?" Sam asked.

"Now nothing," Dean answered. "We've still got a job to do. Brooke knowing we're here doesn't change that. Nothing different from the second we drove into this town."

Sam nodded, meeting the gazes of both Nathan and Haley, knowing that they were all sharing the same thought:

It sure as hell was different, and EVERYTHING had just changed.

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AN: They sure couldn't keep it secret for long, huh? Now Dean's facing a hurt and angry Brooke, and we all know how well that goes over.

So now that Brooke's in on everything, how do you think the rest of the Tree Hill gang will react when they find out? Let's just say that Peyton is none too happy to find Dean back in town…hehe.

Leave me some love!


	4. Chapter 4

Second Chances

AN: Woot woo! Once again, you guys are the greatest! It makes me so excited when I open my email and see that even more people have added Second Chances to their favorites list. It just makes me grin!!

So this is the last chapter I have completely written up, so it may be the last super fast update I have for a few days, considering I work the next seven days straight. But, when insomnia hits as often as it does, this is what I'm passing time with, so I promise to have the next chapter up soon!

Chapter Four

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Dean didn't exactly forbid this.

That's what Sam told himself as he stood outside Clothes Over Bros.

Though "Stay away from Brooke" was pretty specific.

_But I've been walking around town for hours,_ he reasoned with himself. _Eventually, I'll have to use the bathroom. And if this store is closest when that times comes, then I have a reason to be here. It's not disobeying Dean, it answering the call of nature._

The truth was, he was curious about Brooke Davis.

After he and Dean had arrived back at the motel, he'd logged onto the computer while Dean as in the shower. He'd looked up everything he could find on Brooke Davis, from her character in _An Unkindness of Ravens _to the startup days of her company. It had all been facts he'd known already, and nothing that he had wanted to know now.

Like how did it happen? When did she realize she was in love with Dean? Did she think he was an arrogant jerk at first or did she see through him to the nice guy underneath? Did they celebrate birthdays and anniversaries like he and Jessica had, or did they just do their own thing, like Dean had been known to do? It all baffled him, and as he watched her through the glass door leading to her store, he wanted to know more.

He had to find out what it was about this girl that had made Dean want to give up hunting.

He watched her through the door, seeing her hunched over a drawing desk off to the side, pencil slashing away at paper, and he took a deep breath. He squared his shoulders and opened the door, watching as the dinging bell brought the girl's attention to him.

Her gaze seemed to turn wary and cautious once she recognized him and the pencil was laid to the side. Her eyes glanced over his shoulder, as if searching to see if Dean was following behind, and when she saw he wasn't, she appeared relieved. She laced her fingers together and leaned against the desk, one eyebrow arching as she waited for him to speak.

He stopped when he reached the middle of the store, smiling uncertainly and giving her an awkward wave.

"Hi," he said lamely.

Her eyebrow arched a little higher. "Hello," she answered coolly.

Sam shifted on his feet under her unwavering gaze, and he was surprised to find himself trying very hard not to start sweating. He had to hand it to her—when she wanted to be cold, she could be cold. He nearly laughed with the realization that the found a 110 pound Brooke Davis intimidating.

Though, if it's one thing he's learned over his lifetime, it's that looks can be deceiving.

"Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot yesterday," he began.

"Oh, you mean when you and your no good, philandering brother blindsided me in one of my best friend's homes?" she asked sarcastically.

Sam frowned. "Uh, yeah, pretty much," he said. "Philandering?"

Brooke scoffed. "You can't expect me to believe that Dean Winchester kept it in his pants for the last four years." Sam dropped his gaze and she shrugged. "Hey, it's not like I've been Carol Brady either, but, hey, he's the one that left."

Sam nodded, shifting his feet again, and met her gaze. "Look, I'm sorry my brother's a dick," he said. "I really am. He's a stubborn, selfish ass and he shouldn't have left you like he did. But I don't think you know how much this is killing him, too." She looked down as he spoke, picking up her pencil and began to draw again.

Sam walked towards her, hands in the pockets of his beat up jacket. "You know, my brother has been this strong, stoic son of a bitch for as long as I can remember. Even in high school, he refused to open up to anybody, whether we were in the town for a week or a month. He just went through the motions. But the second we drove into this town; the second he saw Nathan and Haley, Jamie, you…he's shown more emotion than I ever thought he possibly could. It's destroying him, being here. I mean, you wouldn't believe how torn up he is. I don't think he was even this upset when our dad died."

The pencil stilled, and he watched as Brooke raised her eyes to meet his slowly. She stared at him, mouth opening and closing for a long moment. "John is dead?" she asked, tears swimming in her eyes.

Sam hesitated, realizing that he had just dropped yet another bomb on an already heartbroken girl, before he nodded. "Yeah."

She shuddered out a breath. "When?"

"Almost a year ago."

She sighed, closing her eyes, and quickly swiped at the tears that managed to squeeze through. "I'm so sorry, Sam," she said softly. "I really liked your dad."

Sam nodded, smiling. "From what I hear, he really liked you, too." He shrugged, taking another step towards her. "Look, the reason I'm here is let you know that Dean and I are still working this job. Which means we'll be in town for awhile longer. I don't know how long, exactly, but…long enough for you and Dean to side step and avoid each other. And it's gonna drive all of us crazy and just tear the two of you up more."

Brooke chuckled suddenly, and he looked into her knowing eyes when they met his. "You're asking me to talk to him."

"I'm asking you to be civil," Sam replied, grinning. "To take the high road, because God knows Dean won't. I mean, we're here to protect Jamie, which means we'll be around him a lot. You're already around him a lot and it's obvious that you both adore each other. And for some weird reason that beyond my ability to understand, he's crazy about Dean, too. And I'm pretty positive that Dean fond of him."

"So, you're saying that I should suck it up for Jamie's sake?" she asked. Sam shrugged and she nodded, smiling wistfully. "You know Sam…you are just as much a pain in the ass as Dean said. But you're right. Jamie is who's important here." She stood up, shoving her pencil and drawing pad into the desk drawer and grabbing her purse from the floor. She dug around for her keys, pulling them out with a smile, and looked up at him. "It's nice to finally meet you, Sam. I just wish it could have been under different circumstances."

Sam smiled, nodding. "Me too, Brooke. You have no idea."

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Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. The words on the page were swimming. He couldn't concentrate. He just kept picturing the look on Brooke's face when she had put two and two together last night. How could he have done this? Any of it? He never should have gone after Brooke four years ago. He should have stayed the hell away; never dragged her into this.

"_The mechanic said it'd be a week, two at most," Dean said, an almost pleading tone to his voice as he and John sat at the bar of Tric. His father glared at him as he sipped his beer, and Dean shrugged. "The damage could have been a lot worse, Dad."_

_John shook his head._

"_It was the girl's fault. She was a freakin' siren, I swear." He smiled suddenly, fingers grasping the neck of his beer bottle. "You should have seen her, Dad. She was incredible. Dark hair, dark eyes, killer smile. Knockout body. And her voice…I mean, I'm not one to go all sappy clichés or anything, but the second she started talking, she took my breath away."_

_John chuckled, shaking his head. "You're whipped, son."_

_Dean looked at him, his face taking on a defensive expression. "Am not."_

_John turned to him, his eyes looking on something over Dean's shoulder, and grinned before meeting his gaze. "Really? Fine. Prove it." He nodded his head across the room, and Dean glanced over his shoulder, doing a quick double take when his gaze landed on a very familiar brunette. "I got a pretty good look at your mystery girl, Dean, and by the way your face looks like someone just reunited you with a lost puppy, I'm guessing that's her."_

_Damn right it was. Brooke Davis…_

_Her hair was longer than he thought, falling in dark curls over her shoulders and down her back. Her red halter top clung to her curves in ways that tank top never could, its low cut back giving him a clear view of pale, flawless skin. Her black Capri's revealed slender calves, her heels merely accentuating them as they gave her an extra inch in height. She stood with her back to him, next to a curly haired blonde girl, both laughing as something a short, odd-looking guy was saying. _

"_You said you're whipped. Go over and talk to her. If you can end the conversation without wanting to run off with her to Vegas, I will gladly cough up $100. If you can't? Well, I'll just add it to your long list of debt to me."_

_Dean nodded absently, taking a long swig of his beer. He slammed it down on the bar, smirking at his father. "Watch and learn, old man." He spun on his barstool, jumping to his feet, and strode quickly across the room, determination set on his face. His eyes never left her as his steps brought him closer and closer. He heard her raspy laugh, and his steps slowed while his pulse quickened. Her stopped a few feet behind her, completely enthralled by the way her hair swayed with every movement of her head, and he cleared his throat. She spun around, a friendly smile on her face. Her eyes locked with his, and her smile turned to a flirtatious smirk as recognition kicked in. he grinned, pleased that he'd had a lasting effect on her. "Brooke Davis," he said over the music, eyes taking in her red lips and blue eyeshadow, loving the way it made her eyes shine._

"_Speed Racer," she said, tilting her head as she placed her hands on her hips. "Small world."_

"_Small town," he replied. She chuckled, and he grinned again before glancing at her two companions who were watching their exchange with curious eyes. She glanced at them, smirk still in place._

"_So this is the guy that totaled town square?" the blonde asked, laughing. _

"_Geez, don't ever let anyone tell you you've lost your effect on men, Brooke," the man was saying._

_Dean nodded in agreement. "Damn right."_

_Brooke grinned. "Peyton Sawyer, Marvin McFadden, meet Dean Winchester, in all his bumbling glory."_

_He nodded to her friends, smiling, before her words caught up to him, and he looked at her, eyebrows raised in question. "Bumbling?"_

_She shrugged. "What else do you call your stuttering, car crashing self earlier?"_

"_Sweetheart, I don't stutter."_

"_Oh, you came pretty close." She smiled. "Don't worry, I think it's cute."_

"_Yeah, I thought you were pretty cute right up until you called me bumbling," he said, watching as she squinted slightly and cocked her head to the side. He grinned. "Now I'm pretty sure you're just sexy as hell."_

_The guy—Marvin, he recalled—scoffed. "Smooth," he murmured to Peyton, who rolled her eyes._

_He took a step towards her, smirking, until he could see the specks of brown in her hazel eyes. "Thing is, Miss Davis. My car is out of commission for about a week, so instead of just passing through, I'm going to be here for awhile. And I did happen to see a lovely young lady earlier today during my bumbling fit, and I was wondering if she'd be willing to give a bumbling guy her number or, even better, a date." _

_Those hazel eyes were looking him over again, and he could see her brain considering his proposal even as she was biting her lower lip. _

_He'd never seen anything as sensual as that. _

_He leaned down, breathing in the scent of her hair as he brought his lips to her ear. "Because I can tell you that not everything about me is bumbling," he whispered. _

_She turned her head, so close to him now that her breath was warm on his cheek, and he stared into her eyes all the while watching her plump red lips turn upward in a smile._

_He was realizing quickly that staring into those eyes would be an amazing way to end a day. Any day. Hell, every day._

"_So what do you say, Davis," he asked. "Going to take a chance on me?"_

_She looked up at him from under her lashes, that God sexy eyebrow arching as her smile grew. "I'm pretty sure that you'll be getting more than just a 'chance', Mr. Winchester. I'm over on Columbus Street. Apartment 12. pick me up tomorrow, and we'll see just how bumbling you are."_

_Dean smirked, nodding. "Looking forward to it."_

_With that he gave her a flirtatious smile and with a nod at her companions, he turned on his heel and strode back to the bar. He reclaimed his seat next to John, grabbing his beer and taking a long swig. _

_John watched him, an I-told-you-so smile creeping across his face._

_Dean glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, seeing his smirk and rolled his eyes. "Put it on my tab, you gloating jerk," he muttered, shaking his head as his father simply laughed. _

Dean sighed, shutting the book in his hand and tossing it onto the table. He rubbed a hand over his tired eyes, wishing to God that this whole situation had played out differently. If he'd known what taking his old man's bet would lead to, he had to wonder if he'd have done it. Would he have fallen so hard for Brooke—promised her the world and everything beyond it—if he'd know he'd leave her heartbroken and alone? Would he have forged the friendships he did if he'd realized he'd be the most hated person in Tree Hill since Dan Scott?

Would he have come back at all?

"Small word," he murmured, shaking his head.

"Small town," a voice said softly behind him.

He turned, so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn't heard the door open.

He knew it was her before he even turned around, but the shock of seeing her standing there wasn't any less staggering.

Brooke stood by the door, arms crossed over her chest defensively, hazel eyes staring at him intently. She was dressed more casually today, black dress pants and a blue V-neck sweater, her hair pulled back into a severe ponytail.

She lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. "Sam came to see me," she said.

Dean grunted, shaking his head. "Stupid stubborn ass can't do what he's told," he muttered angrily. He sighed, raising his eyes to hers again and his face softened. He stood up, clenching his hands into fists at his side to keep them from reaching for her, the broken look on her face being more than he could bear.

A million things that he wanted to say were coursing through his head.

I miss you. You look good. I've so sorry. I've been miserable without you.

Instead, he cracked a smile. "You know, even when you're pissed at me, you're still the prettiest girl in the room."

Brooke shook her head, clenching her jaw. "Am I supposed to say thank you?" She scoffed. "It doesn't work like that anymore, Dean. You can't make this all go away with some cheesy compliment like you used to."

Dean nodded. "I know, Brooke."

"Do you?" she asked, voice low and angry. He lowered his head, knowing from experience that he was about to have his ass handed to him on a silver platter when her voice took that tone. "'Cause I'm really starting to wonder if that thick skull or yours knows anything anymore."

"Brooke--."

She held up her hand, cutting him off. "Don't. It has been four years, Dean, and I think I've earned this right." He nodded after a brief hesitation and braced himself. "Do you have…any idea how I felt that morning? Waking up and realizing that you weren't there? I was so…terrified. I thought that some demon or monster…" she trailed off, breathing heavily, and tears shone in her eyes. "And then, I saw that your duffel was gone. Your cell phone, your jacket…and I realized that you hadn't been taken or forced away. You just left. You LEFT me, Dean."

He shut his eyes, shaking his head. She was starting to cry. She was trying to hard to fight it, but he knew she was. And he hated it when she cried. Even more so when he was the reason for it.

"You left me and I felt so…foolish. And so angry. I just wouldn't wrap my head around it and after days of not being able to get ahold of you, I stopped trying. There was no other explanation other than the fact that you just…didn't want me anymore. That and you were a coward. You didn't even have the guts to tell me to my face. And I was so sad for so long, Dean. Because even if I had stolen your heart like you told me millions of times, you took mine with you." She sobbed quietly, then, for a long second before smiling sadly, shrugging her shoulders. "But, hey, it doesn't matter now, right? I mean, I'm happy, you're happy, so no need to dwell on it."

He smirked, shaking his head. "Right," he said softly. _Wrong, wrong, wrong. Let's dwell on it. Let's yell and scream so I can tell you how sorry I am, and how much I've missed you! I'm not happy, Brooke, and I haven't been since I walked out, and I want nothing more than to just go back to the way we were before my stupid ass starting making stupid decisions! _He raised his head slowly and met her gaze, steeling himself for the anger he was sure to find. And find it he did, mixed with hostility and rage, but what he wasn't prepared for was the amount of pain he found as well.

The pain in her eyes was stifling to him, and he was suddenly wracked with more guilt than he'd ever felt before. HE was the reason it was there. He had fractured their happiness in one split second and now, being faced with the direct results of that, he wanted to throw himself in the path of a bus.

She wasn't his Brooke anymore, he realized. That fun, sexy, beautiful girl that he'd fallen for years ago was not the woman standing before him now. The woman before him now was angry, hurt, and heartbroken.

And he was the reason for it.

He was starting to realize that his leaving had done more damage than good.

Brooke sighed, crossing her arms. "Look, there's no reason for you and Sam to waste your money in this dump," she said, grimacing at the sparsely filled room. "You said you always hated motels, anyway. There are a couple of extra bedrooms in my house. The two of you can crash upstairs until the hunt is done with."

Dean looked at her.

"It's for Jamie," she said.

He nodded. "Thanks, Brooke," he said softly, watching as she shrugged and nodded once curtly.

_And I'm so sorry…_

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"Dude, I have my own bed," Sam proclaimed, plopping next to Dean on the couch.

"You've always had your own bed," he replied, glancing at him before returning once more to the newspaper clippings he was sorting through.

"Yeah, but this is my own bed, in my own room," Sam continued. "I mean, it's privacy in its most basic form."

"What are you, 12?" Dean snapped. "We're lucky Brooke's even letting us near her, Sam, let alone crashing in the upstairs while we're here."

Sam laughed. "You mean 'you,'" he said, grabbing a book and turning to its marked page. "She doesn't seem to have a problem with me." He smiled at Dean's glare, and read silently for several minutes. "She said she'd tried to get a hold of me once," he said suddenly, glancing at Dean from the corner of his eyes.

Dean nodded, flipping to the next article. "A few times actually," he replied. "But that your 'school good, Dean bad' phase. You never answered the phone or the letters, so…"

Sam nodded, remembering the influx in letters and phone calls from his brother. He hadn't answered any of them, squashing down the feeling that something could have been horribly wrong. He threw the letters away, hit the ignore button, and continued to go on with his newfound life.

He sighed, turning to see Dean looking towards the bedroom door Brooke had disappeared into an hour earlier.

Maybe if he'd answered just one phone call, he could have prevented this whole situation.

"You talk to her yet?"

Dean looked back at the clippings, remaining silent.

"You know, I bet if you just explained it all to her, she might understand."

Dean scoffed, shaking his head. "Whatever, Dr. Phil."

The phone ringing cut off Sam's reply, and they both looked to the handset that sat on the table at their side. They look towards Brooke's closed door, wondering if she was still in the shower, before glancing at each other. Sam shrugged, and Dean sighed, reaching over the snatch the handset up quickly.

"Hello?"

"Wow, either Brooke has gotten very masculine or I'm talking to a strange guy in her house."

Dean closed his eyes, dropping his head into his hand as he recognized the voice on the other end.

Of course it was Peyton.

Because he hadn't been kicked in the goodies enough today.

"What, you pick up the phone and now you don't want to talk?" Peyton asked. "Who the hell are you and why are you in Brooke's house?"

Dean ran a hand down his face, groaning inwardly. "Brooke's in the shower, so I figured I'd take a message for her," he said. Sam looked at him questioningly, and he cut him off with an upraised hand. "You know, be a Good Samaritan."

"Good Samaritan my ass," Peyton snapped, and Dean could just picture her curly blonde hair whipping around her angry face. "Who are you?" Dean remained silent, and she sighed in irritation. "Look, I'm not going to ask again."

Dean sighed. "Look, Peyton, I could tell you the truth, but it will just piss you off more than you already are. We both know that you have a temper to rival Brooke's, so maybe we should just label me Good Samaritan and leave it at that."

The line was silent and Dean waited, eyes slowly traveling to Brooke's still closed door, before Peyton spoke again. "Please tell me this isn't who I think it is."

"Depends on who you think it is," Dean cracked, chuckling uncomfortably.

"Dean?" Peyton asked.

He chuckled again. "Like I said, let's just stick with Good Samaritan."

"Son of a bitch," Peyton muttered, and then the line went dead.

Dean sighed, hanging up the phone before rubbing his tired eyes with the heel of his hands. He leaned back on the couch, groaning, and turned his head to look at Sam.

Sam nodded at him. "Wrong number?"

Dean ignored his sarcasm, staring at the ceiling, as he chuckled. "I just pissed off the second scariest woman in Tree Hill."

"Second scariest?"

"Hell, yeah. Brooke is the scariest, by far. Peyton's not far behind, though." He shivered slightly, causing Sam to chuckle. "Dude, it's not funny. She's supposed to be in Los Angeles, living her music managing dream. How the hell was I supposed to know she moved back to town? If she walks in here, it's going to get real ugly, real fast, you have no idea. She didn't like me to begin with."

Sam laughed, shaking his head. "You are such a pansy."

"Oh, can it, Ginormo."

They went back to their research, Dean glancing over when he heard movement behind Brooke's door, and sighed in relief. If Brooke was here, maybe Peyton wouldn't lunge for his jugular with claws exposed.

He frowned.

Or maybe Brooke would just hold him down while she did.

The front door flew open, and Dean jumped to his feet, turning to face the person he knew would be standing there.

Peyton Sawyer hadn't changed much in four years. Her once curly blonde hair was now wavy and light brown. Her rocker tees and torn up jeans were now replaced with boot cut pants and a button up shirt. Her blue eyes were wide with shock for a split second before they narrowed in anger.

Dean froze like a deer in headlights as she walked towards them slowly, eyes never wavering from his face. She stopped in front of him, jaw clenched, and glared at him fiercely.

Sam's gaze traveled between them, nervously setting the book next to him as he debated jumping between the two.

"Hey, Peyton," Dean said finally, smiling uncomfortably.

Peyton's fist shot out, clocking him on the side of the jaw, and he flew backwards, smashing into the table before he collapsed on the floor.

"Hey, Skidmark," she replied as Sam stood up, staring down at his brother in shock. He held up his hands as a sign of surrender when the girl's angry gaze flew to him, and he took a step back.

Peyton glared down at Dean once more before spinning on her booted heel and striding towards Brooke's bedroom. "Davis!" she yelled, knocking once before letting herself in, slamming the door behind her.

Sam raced to his brother's side when he moaned, and he crouched next to him as Dean cradled his jaw, pushing himself up on an elbow.

"You really don't have luck with girls in this town, do you?" Sam asked, laughing.

Dean glared at him. "Shut up," he said, groaning again as he held his aching jaw. He slowly lied back down on the hardwood floor, wishing once more that he'd been brave enough to stick around.

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AN: Yay! Another chapter down! I'm loving where this is going so far, and I'm having so much fun writing it. I'm hoping that y'all are loving reading it more!

Don't you just love Peyton? Yeah, she can be kind of whiney and a bit of a bitch every now and then, but the friendship she and Brooke have kind of make up for it in my opinion. Needless to say, she's got a problem with Dean being back in town.

Let me know what you guys think!!


	5. Chapter 5

Second Chance

AN: Sorry it's taken so long to update. Work has been CRAAAZY! Thanks to all of you that left such amazing reviews for Second Chance! I'm so glad that this story is enjoyable to you. I love the couple of Dean and Brooke, and I'm so ecstatic to see that a lot of other people do too.

On another note, just wondering if anyone has read the book, Devil's Kiss, by Sarwat Chadda. It was literally one of the most amazing and attention grabbing books I've ever read. Anybody pick it up lately? If not, I greatly recommend that you do!

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Chapter Five

"How could you not tell me he was here?"

Brooke sighed as she stared into her closet, wrapped in a white bath towel, as Peyton sat on her bed. She closed her eyes, wishing that this whole situation would turn out to be a crazy dream.

"I mean, seriously, Dean?" Peyton continued.

"I didn't call him, Peyton," Brooke said, pulling a sweater off a hanger before reaching for a pair of jeans.

"Nathan and Haley did, yeah, you told me," Peyton said, sighing. "But you're actually letting him stay in your house. It's asking for trouble."

Brooke laughed, dropping her towel before sliding on her undergarments and pulling the jeans over her legs. "What, are you expecting us to hop in the sack?" At her friend's silence, she shook her head. "Not gonna happen, P. Sawyer. I just know that he hates motel rooms."

Peyton laughed. "So? He can sleep on cockroach-infested mattresses, and I wouldn't lose a second of sleep over it. And after everything he put you through, neither should you."

Brooke pulled the sweater over her head, turning to face Peyton. "Believe me, Peyton, I don't reminding. I live with those memories everyday." She sighed, watching Peyton drop her gaze. "Look, I don't like this situation any more than you do. My heart…feels like it's going to burst, just knowing that he's in the other room. But you know just as well as I do that Nathan and Haley would never have called him if they didn't think they had to. You have to admit that these kids' disappearing is not the acts of a normal kidnapper."

Peyton sighed, looking at her.

"If it wasn't for Jamie, I would never have asked him."

After a moment, Peyton nodded and they exchanged a small smile as she stood up, crossing the short distance to her best friend. She grasped her upper arms, and smiled. "Fine. I guess if you can play nice with Meathead, I can too. But I make no promises to not him again if his smart-ass mouth stays something I don't like."

Brooke chuckled, shaking her head. "Thanks, Peyton."

The blonde shrugged. "What are friends for?"

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"You just got your ass handed to you by a girl," Sam said, laughing.

Dean glared at him as he pressed a frozen bag of veggies to his already swollen eye. "Peyton Sawyer is not a girl," he said. "She's an evil Medusa with a killer right hook who loves to snack on the egos of men."

"My left hook is just as good, so I'd keep that mouth of yours shut."

They looked over to see Peyton walking into the living room, Brooke following close behind. Dean clenched his jaw when Brooke avoided his gaze, walking into the kitchen and opening the refrigerator. Peyton sat on the couch next to Sam. Grinning, she held out her hand. "Hi. Peyton Sawyer. You must be the brother of this stubborn jackass over there."

Sam shook her hand, glancing at Brooke when he heard her sigh, and exchanged a nervous glance with Dean. "Sam," he said slowly, unsure of whether to really trust her friendly smile.

Peyton nodded, resting her elbows on her knees as she surveyed the book covered table. "So, research, huh? I remember research. I remember that I rocked at it, while Brooke and Dean sucked."

Brooke laughed from the kitchen. "Whatever. You bitched and moaned the whole one time you did research, and even then, it was ME who found how the way to kill the damned thing."

"Lucky break," Peyton said nonchalantly, picking up a thick volume and settling back on the couch.

"Yeah, and Lucas choosing you over Lindsey was a lucky break," she fired back, chomping on a carrot.

Dean glanced between the two, smirking at their familiar banter. He looked over at Brooke. "Who's Lindsey?" he asked, realizing that he wasn't familiar with the name.

Brooke opened her mouth to answer, but Peyton cut her off. "She's someone you'd know about if you'd bothered to stick around."

"Peyton," Brooke reminded, watching Dean lower his head. Peyton stared at her, scrunching her face in annoyance. Brooke made the same face in return, and her friend finally sighed, throwing up her hands.

"Sorry," she said half-heartedly. "You know, B. Davis, I'm not really sure how much good I'm going to be right now, so I'm gonna take off for now. I'll be back tomorrow…to see how things are going."

She stood up, motioning for Brooke to follow her out, and mumbled a good-bye to the two brothers.

Sam watched the girls walk out the front door, shaking his head before he turned to look at Dean.

His older brother nodded, pursing his lips. "Just the breathe of sunshine I remember."

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"Just the arrogant prick I remember," Peyton said as she and Brooke walked towards her Comet.

"Remember when you said you'd try to be nice?" Brooke asked, crossing her arms over her chest. They stopped at the driver's side door and faced each other. Peyton narrowed her eyes.

"Brooke," she said in disbelief, shaking her head. Brooke shrugged, raising her eyebrows in question as she avoided her gaze. "Brooke Davis, please don't tell me you're actually sympathizing with him."

"I'm not sympathizing," Brooke defended. "I'm just…trying to understand."

"Understand what?" Peyton asked. "Why he left, why he came back? Who cares, Brooke? The fact is he left to begin with."

Brooke sighed. "So did you," she added softly, raising her eyes to meet Peyton's. "You said no to Lucas. You stayed in L.A."

Peyton shook her head. "That's different, and you know it. Why are you defending him?"

Brooke shook her head, her gaze traveling to Dean's Impala parked next to her SUV. Her lips quivered, and tears burned her eyes as she met Peyton's suddenly concerned gaze. "Because I have to believe that I didn't just stop being enough," she whispered brokenly. She shrugged. "I have to believe that he didn't just stop loving me."

Peyton stared at her for a long moment before she reached out and pulled her friend into an embrace as she battled heartbroken tears.

And for the third time that day, she cursed Dean Winchester.

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Dean groaned softly as he walked down the dark hallway, cursing his insomnia and the hunger pains in the bottom of his stomach. It was nearly 3 a.m., four hours after he and Sam had shut the books and retired for the night. Four hours that he had lied awake, the image of Brooke's red rimmed eyes coursing through his head.

She'd tried to hide her tear-stained face when she came in after seeing Peyton out, but he had seen it. All too clearly, he had seen it.

The sound of clanking metal from the lower floor drew his attention, and he made his way to the stairs, descending them silently as he followed the noise.

He rounded the corner, squinting as the light from the kitchen hit his eyes.

Brooke stood at the stove, her back to him as she leaned against the counter, a fork dangling from her right hand. Her dark hair was in a sloppy bun, tendrils escaping to curl around her face gently. Her thin white robe fell to her bare calves, and the black boy shorts and tank top were easily outlined beneath it.

Suddenly he wished he was wearing more than just his boxers and T-shirt.

He cleared his throat and watched her jump slightly, turning around. He smiled at her, nodding when her face somewhat relaxed when she saw it was him, and he silently rejoiced when she hesitantly smiled back.

"Couldn't sleep, huh?" she asked softly, quickly averting her gaze and looking back to the pot on the stove.

Dean shrugged, walking towards her. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning a hip against the counter. He smiled when he saw macaroni boiling in the pot, and he shook his head, chuckling.

Her hazel eyes looked at him in question.

"Nothing. Just, uh…you," he said, shrugging. "It's just nice to see that some things haven't changed."

She shook her head, closing her eyes briefly. "Everything's changed, Dean," she said softly, dropping her gaze to the boiling water.

Dean hesitated before nodding, watching silently as she stirred the noodles and reduced the temperature of the stove.

"Sam told me about John."

He looked at her. She was watching him again, a sympathetic look on her beautiful face.

"I'm really sorry, Dean."

He nodded, staring into her sad, familiar eyes. Those eyes had haunted his thoughts everyday for nearly four years, and he was amazed at how easily he could still get lost in them.

"He was crazy about you, you know," he said, watching her smile wistfully. "Not so much at first. I think the whole Impala thing was working against you, but you had him won over before too long." He smiled. "He was a goner as soon as those dimples made their first appearance."

She nodded slightly.

"You know, he used to--,"

"Please don't."

He looked at her, frowning.

"Please don't talk like nothing's wrong, Dean. Don't talk like you still know me at all."

Silence hung between them for a long moment, the boiling water being the only noise, before he shook his head.

"It's 3 a.m. and you're making Mac and Cheese because you can't sleep. You always do when you can't. Those noodles are only half cooked because if the pasta is too mushy, it makes you sick. You dream in black and white, unless you're having a nightmare, in which the colors are so vivid you can barely stand it. You can hold your liquor like a champ, except when it comes to whisky. It drives you crazy when people hear your voice and ask if you smoke. You love the color purple, but hate the color orange. You're middle name is Penelope, and whenever people bring up The Odyssey, you just stare at them blankly because you've never heard of it. You cry every time you watch Breakfast at Tiffany's, and though you'd never admit it, you laugh hysterically at Spaceballs. You're ticklish under your neck, allergic to any kind of berry lotion, and hate cotton candy because it dissolves so quick. You have a smile that can cause car crashes, and you use it even when all you want to do is cry." He paused, shaking his head. "Maybe something is wrong here, Brooke, but don't think for a second that I don't know you."

Brooke shut her eyes, letting out a shaky sigh, before she looked up at him. "Did you know that I can't sleep without a light on now?" she whispered, watching as his eyes flashed to hers in question. "That I get so scared sometimes, I can barely form a thought?" Dean was silent, and could clearly see the emotions warring within his eyes. She hesitated, pondering, before she parted her lips to continue. "I was attacked three months ago, while I was closing the store."

Dean froze, frowning.

"I was beaten, Dean. Some stranger tore into my life and ripped my whole reality apart. I was scared and helpless, and I felt so pathetic and weak-willed. I got so angry. So unbelievably angry. I started to feel…cold and empty. I was becoming a version of myself that I couldn't stand. And in all that time, all I could think was… 'I wish Dean was here.'" She stifled a sob, trying to ignore the horror-stricken expression on Dean's face. "I thought, if only you were there, I wouldn't be so afraid. Because I knew that you would do everything you could to keep me safe. You would have hunted that bastard down and made sure that I wouldn't look over my shoulder every step and expect to see him there. You would have made sure that I wasn't scared."

She shrugged, swiping at a tear.

"But you weren't here, Dean. And I was afraid. So, no, Dean. You don't know me. The Brooke you knew hasn't been around for a long time."

She looked back to the stove, sniffling.

Dean stared at her, fury and remorse coursing through every nerve in his body. Four years…four years he'd lived with the loneliness; the guilt. All because he'd thought he was doing what was best.

He hadn't protected her at all.

He stood there, imagining Brooke beaten and bleeding—terrified—and his hands itched to strangle the man that had made her feel unsafe in her own home. That man had bruised and broken her body—the body he had cherished with every fiber of his being—and he wanted to kill the bastard. He wanted to make him feel the pain and agony and fear that she'd felt.

But more than that, he wanted to kill himself for allowing it to happen.

He clenched his jaw, pushing aside the rage and guilt, fighting against the tears he felt burning his eyes. "Brooke…" he said softly. She stood, silently stirring the boiling pasta, ignoring him. He reached out, gently touching her shoulder.

She spun to face him, flinching away from his touch, her red-rimmed eyes meeting his. "What do you want me to say, Dean?" she demanded, brokenly. "What do you want me to say? That it is taking all the strength I have to hate you? You have no idea what it's been like to just be here, seeing everyone around me happy and with someone and so in love, and to feel so incredibly alone. And I have tried to hate you, Dean. I have tried so much, but all I realize is how much I miss you. It is killing me, seeing you. And hearing your voice and knowing…that you're not here for me."

Dean closed his eyes against her agonized tone, trying to ignore the way her voice cracked. He shook his head, forcing his eyes open to see her turning away. He grabbed her arm, spinning her to face him, and raised a hand to cradle her face. She struggled against him, but he just pulled her closer, leaning down until they were eye to eye. "You listen to me, Brooke Davis," he said, tilting her chin up until her eyes would meet his. "You are the reason. The only reason. Alright? You've always…been the reason."

He stared at her, kicking himself for the doubt and disbelief he saw in her hazel eyes, and he wiped away the lone tear coursing down her cheek with his thumb.

Brooke closed her eyes at the feel of his caress, completely overwhelmed by the rush of long forgotten emotions that coursed through her. She reached up, laying her hand against his as he cradled her cheek, and opened her eyes to see his face closer to her own. She recognized the desire in his eyes, and she fought against her own as it welled in her chest.

She couldn't let this happen. She knew that if she felt his lips on her own; if she let him get any closer, she'd never be able to turn away. She'd backpedal herself four years, back to when she couldn't even make herself get out of bed. She had to stop this, but as his lips drew nearer and nearer, all she wanted to was to forget the pain and lose herself in him.

The water boiled over the pot then, steaming as it hit the red hot burner, and Brooke jumped away from Dean as she was snapped from her daze. She let out a shaky sigh, quickly turning to shut off the stove and move the pot to an empty burner. She braced her hands against the countertop, fighting to collect herself. She shook her head, swiping at a strand of hair as she turned to look at him.

His gaze was heated and fierce, frustration etched into his handsome face. She shook her head once more, clutching the sides of her robe shut as she crossed her arms over her chest. "No," she said softly. "If that were true, you would have been back years ago, Dean." She shrugged. "You never would have left."

She shouldered past him, fighting against the sobs that welled in her throat, and raced to her bedroom, praying that he wouldn't follow. She slammed the door shut behind her, leaning her back against it as the sobs freely came now.

She couldn't breathe. Her chest was tight and burning and screaming for release.

She slowly slid to the floor, wrapping her arms around herself, even while she ached for a different set of them. She cried—for herself, for her broken heart, and for the future she could have had with the only man she'd ever want it with.

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Dean leaned against the kitchen counter, clenching his hands into fists.

In the span of a terrified second, he'd lost everything he'd ever wished for.

He had made a stupid mistake—chose the coward's way out—and realized now that it had only managed to make things worse.

And that it may be too late to take any of it back.

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That night, across town, five-year-old Robbie Sanders lied in his bed, clutching the covers to his chin. His father had checked under his bed, and in his closet. No monsters were there—the Boogeyman wasn't hiding in a corner.

But Robbie knew that he wasn't alone.

He felt the eyes that watched him from across the room, and he whimpered when he heard soft footsteps make their way to his bed. He pulled his Spongebob comforter over his head, clenching his eyes shut as fear shook him to the core. He felt his fingers pull at his comforter, and he heard the laughter as he fought to keep his grip on it.

He cried out when it was torn from his bed, and kicked and clawed when a hand covered his mouth, cutting off the cry for his mother. He wept and let out muffled screams as he was pulled away from the only comfort he'd ever known.

And while he was taken away, his parents slept on, neither even knowing that their pride and joy was gone.

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**Whew! Another chapter down!! Yay!!**

**Okay…so this was REALLY angsty, so sorry about that. There will be some lightness in the next chapter, which I am slaving away writing as you read!**

**Let me know what you guys think!!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Second Chances**

**AN: Man, you guys are so AMAZING! I still can't believe how many times SC has been favorited and put on alert lists and…wow! There's nothing really more to say, except thanks!**

**So on another note, finally buckled down and got a Twitter account. For nearly three months, I had no idea what Twitter was, and now EVERYONE has on. So yeah…I conformed. Not sure what to make of it yet though. If anybody's interested, it's http : // / hepburnchick (obviously without the spaces).**

**And now, onto the next chapter!!**

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The stiffness in his back and the smell of coffee woke Dean the next morning. He groaned, shifting uncomfortably. The springs of the couch creaked slightly under his weight, and the memories of last night's encounter came screaming back to him. He snapped his eyes open, and was greeted by the smiling face of James Lucas Scott.

"Morning, Uncle Dean!"

Dean looked at him, and despite his exhaustion, smiled back. "Morning, buddy," he mumbled, stretching his arms over his head.

Jamie's smile grew. "See, Momma, I told you I wouldn't wake him up."

Dean heard a chuckle from behind him and he sat up, turning towards the kitchen. Haley was leaning against the counter, a smirk on her lips and a coffee cup in her hand. She winced playfully, motioning towards his eye.

"Nice shiner, superstar."

Dean nodded, gently touching the tender skin around his eye. "Yeah," he said, chuckling. "Never let it be said that Peyton Sawyer doesn't make her opinions known."

Jamie leaned towards him, inspecting his black eye with extreme concentration, and his face took on a dubious expression. "Aunt Peyton beat you up?"

Dean looked at him, shrugging. "You're never truly a man until you've been laid out by a girl, Jamie," he said, smiling. He leaned towards him, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Between you and me, I let her win."

Haley let out a very unlady-like snort at his comment, and he turned to shoot her an annoyed glare. She smiled back, shaking her head. She heard a door close down the hall and looked at Jamie. "JimJam, quick, come and finish eating. I hear Sam coming."

Dean watched, frowning in confusion, as Jamie jumped up and raced to the kitchen table. He picked up his fork, stuffing his mouth full of waffles, just as Sam rounded the corner. He walked up to the table, brow furrowing at the sight of the five-year-old, before he stopped in his tracks. He pointed to the empty serving plate. "Did you take the last waffle?"

Jamie shrugged, chewing, his cheeks bulging with the size of his bite.

Sam clenched his jaw, glaring. "Dude, you're eating everything."

"You snooze, you lose, Playa," the boy said nonchalantly.

Sam threw up his hands. "I was in the bathroom for 3 minutes and I said before I left, 'I call the last waffle.'"

Jamie smiled. "I didn't see your name on it."

Haley laughed at their exchange and shook her head when Sam sent her a pleading look. "Sorry, Sam. I've spent the last five years feeding this mini Sumo wrestler. I know not to get in the way." She laughed as she walked into the living room with her coffee, holding out another steaming mug towards Dean.

He took it, watching as Sam huffed and took his seat, glared at Jamie the whole time. He chuckled, shaking his head. "What's that about?"

Haley shrugged, smiling. "No idea. We came to make breakfast and as soon as Sam walked in the room, I guess Jamie decided he was the 'enemy.'" She laughed. "They've been bickering over waffles and orange juice and who has cooler hair all morning. I'm actually glad you're finally awake. You can help me from tearing my hair out."

Dean nodded, smiling. "Kid after my own heart." He sipped his coffee, running a hand through his disheveled hair, and threw a glance down the hall, to Brooke's open bedroom door. "She take off already?"

Haley nodded, holding her mug in both hands.

Dean glanced at her from the corner of his eye, and he argued with himself whether or not to bring up what Brooke had said to him last night. He knew—or at least, he hoped—that she wouldn't have just said it to make him feel guilty for leaving. But he really needed to know for sure…

"Haley, was Brooke…," he started, setting his mug on the table. "Was she attacked?" He looked at her when she stayed silent, and saw her staring into her mug. "God, she was, wasn't she?"

Haley nodded. "Yeah," she said softly. She looked at him, shrugging. "It wasn't my place to say anything. The attack…well…it was hard. And you know Brooke. She always…weathers the tough things by herself. She actually didn't even tell any of us at first. She said she 'fell down the stairs'." She smiled. "We all knew there was more to it. I mean, sure, the bruises could have come from a fall, but the hand shaped ones? The way she was so skittish? None of us really knew how to approach the subject. To be honest, I think we all were too busy dealing with our own stuff to really even pay enough attention to see that she HADN'T just fallen down the stairs." She took a sip of her coffee, shaking her head in what seemed like regret before looking back at him. "You know, that was what really started her whole…career makeover. It made her rethink some things; changed the way she saw it all." She sighed. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but like I said…it wasn't my place."

Dean ran a hand over his face. "Yeah, well. Who's to say it's my place anymore," he murmured softly.

Haley shook her head, smiling at him softly. "Dean…"

He cleared his throat. "Doesn't matter, Hales. Brooke and me…" He shook his head. "You know, maybe she's right. Maybe I don't know her anymore. maybe, uh…maybe that feeling in my gut telling me to talk to her, to explain, to work on whatever it is we might still have together is just…stupid."

"Wait," Haley said, setting down her mug and turning to look at him. "Rewind, just for a second. What are you saying? 'Whatever it is you still have together.' Call me crazy, Dean, but that doesn't sound like something a guy who just gave up caring for someone would say, even four years later." He continued looking down at his hands, brow furrowed. A small, knowing smile started to creep onto her face. "You never wanted to leave, did you?"

Dean closed his eyes, silent.

"Dean, what happened?" she asked softly, touching his shoulder gently.

He looked at her, seeing the familiar concern and worry that had always been present on Haley's face, and for a second it was almost like he was back four years, simply venting to her about a stupid argument he'd had with Brooke and how he could fix everything.

But then he blinked, and his harsh reality set in.

He shook his head, smirking. "Like I said, it doesn't matter. Can't take it back, so what's the point? I've still got a job to do here, so…"

The front door opened, cutting off Haley before she could counter his remark, and they looked up to see Brooke walking in, newspaper in hand. She walked up to them, avoiding Dean's gaze with every step, and he felt his gut sink even lower. She tossed the paper on the coffee table. "Another kid's gone missing."

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"And you're sure all the door and windows were locked?"

Twyla Sanders sat on her living room sofa, her husband Roger at her side, while Sam stood before them, dressed in a dark suit, his fake FBI badge on his hip.

"We double check the locks before we go to bed," she said, sniffling into a tissue. "There was no way for anyone to get in here."

Sam nodded, scribbling into a notepad as his eyes scanned the room. No forced entry, though that didn't mean much. If they were dealing with a spirit or a demon, they hardly needed a door or window to get in.

"Mrs. Sanders, is there anyone you can think of that might want to hurt Robbie?"

Roger looked at him, frowning. "He's five."

"What about you then?" he asked, ignoring the husbands condescending tone. "Any enemies or anyone with a grudge?"

They both shook their heads after a moment.

"Have either of you noticed anything odd about the house lately? Cold spots, noises in the walls?"

"What does that have to do with Robbie?" Twyla asked, frowning.

Sam shrugged. "We're just trying to see if there are any collaborative details between the kidnappings."

The Sanders' exchanged a glance before looking back at him. Twyla shrugged. "It's been a little drafty upstairs, but it's an old house."

Sam paused. "Where upstairs?"

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She hadn't said a word to him since she walked in the door.

Dean sighed, looking over his shoulder at the kitchen where Brooke and Haley were busy preparing lunch, their backs to him.

Jamie sat in front of the TV with a bowel of apple slices, eyes fixed on the Looney Tunes. Nathan was next to him on the couch, grimacing as he flipped the pages of a weathered volume.

"Man, some of this stuff is disgusting."

Dean smirked, turning to him. "Try living it, friend."

Nathan laughed, shaking his head. "I'll stick to five-year-olds doped up on sugar and bitter basketball players, thanks."

Dean nodded, smiling as Jamie giggled at Elmer Fudd, and glanced at the man to his left. "How's that going, by the way?"

The young man smiled, shrugging. "I'm not pro."

Dean nodded, turning back to his book. "You'll get there," he said confidently. "I, uh, I heard about your accident awhile ago." He shrugged when Nathan glanced at him. "I was going to call, but…I figured it probably would have done more damage than good."

Nathan laughed. "Yeah. I probably would have bit your head off regardless, though. It wasn't the best period of my life. I preferred booze and depression over physical therapy and a shot at getting back in the game. You know, when Brooke moved back to town after that, she actually offered to make out with Peyton for every step I'd take."

Dean laughed at that, shaking his head. "She would too, if it meant you getting better." He froze for a moment, letting his imagination drift to that image. "Hmm."

Nathan laughed, shaking his head, and looked over his shoulder as soft laughter trailed from the kitchen. From the corner of his eye he saw Dean look as well, and he shut his book, marking the page with his thumb. "How are you doing? I don't imagine living under Brooke's roof is very easy."

Dean shrugged, chuckling. He was prepared to laugh off the situation; make some lame joke to make it seem like he was just fine, but once he looked at Nathan's face, his smirk slipped away. This was Nathan, after all. They'd managed to become pretty good friends over the year he'd been with Brooke. They'd bitched to each other about everyday hassles—jobs, tryouts, even Brooke and Haley when things were rough. Then they'd been bitched at by the girls when they'd come home roaring drunk, barely able to walk a straight line. Even after all these years, he was surprised to see that he still felt the exact same way.

"She won't talk to me," he said softly, shaking his head.

"Can you blame her?" Nathan asked. "Dude, you left without a word, in the middle of the night, after a year. She called us, freaking out, convinced something got you and dragged you away. We all did," he added with a shrug.

Dean looked at him apologetically. "Look, man, I'm sorry I didn't--,"

Nathan held up a hand, cutting him off. "Hey, I don't need an explanation. I get why you did it." He shrugged when Dean just looked at him. "Look, man, you had the whole bad ass demon hunter thing down to an art, but when it came to Brooke, you turned into a pansy ass romantic. She had you wrapped around her finger. You were crazy about her. And I know that you must have been a guy with absolutely no options. You wouldn't have left if you thought you had any other way to deal with whatever the hell it was. I get it, you know? So…no, I don't need an explanation. I've been on your side the whole time." He glanced over his shoulder, smiling as he turned back. "Just don't tell Brooke."

Dean smiled, nodding. "Thanks, Nate."

Nathan opened his book again. "No chick flick moments, dude," he said, quoting Dean's old saying when things got too comfortable.

Dean laughed, feeling a bit more optimistic now that he knew not everyone hated him. He looked up when the front door opened, nodding at his brother as he shook off the suit jacket. "Anything?"

Sam sighed, tossing the jacket across a chair as he took a seat. "Same as the others. No forced entry, sulfur present. The parents didn't hear anything, but they did say that the upstairs was 'drafty'."

Dean arched an eyebrow. "Drafty? You mean, like, cold spots?"

Sam nodded. "Especially in Robbie's room."

Haley walked into the living room, smiling at her son while also sending a warning glace to the men. "Jamie, go wash up for lunch," she said, clapping her hands twice. The boy jumped up and raced the bathroom as Haley turned around, sitting the arm of the couch next to her husband. "Sorry, we're just trying not to scare him too much," she said. Dean and Sam nodded in understanding. "So, cold spots. That what? Means ghosts, right?"

Sam shrugged. "Most of the time, yeah. But ghosts don't normally leave behind sulfur. Demons do."

"So we're dealing with Casper the Friendly Demon?" Brooke asked, walking to Haley's side. She met Dean's gaze for a brief second, turning away before he could read any emotions on her face. "I mean, spooks and demons don't usually tag team, do they?"

"No," Sam replied, amazed at how at ease these three normal people seemed even as they had a conversation about demons. Maybe it wasn't so hard for hunters to have a normal life… "They're pretty prejudice, tend to stick to their own kind."

"Then how do we explain the cold spots?" Dean asked to no one in particular.

He felt the couch shift slightly, and he looked over to see Brooke sit on the arm closest to where he sat, lost in thought. She obviously didn't realize just how close they were sitting, and Dean had to clench his hands into tight fists to keep from wrapping his arm around her knees or her back like he used to.

"Wait, the Sanders live in an old Victorian, right?" she asked.

Sam nodded.

She shrugged. "Victorians are drafty. They've got, like, hollow spots above the ceiling to make it easier to fix lights and beams and things like that. My house used to be freezing if the ceiling covers weren't put back on just right."

Everyone looked at her, and Dean and Sam exchanged a glance. "Is there easy access?" Sam asked.

"The attic, for sure. Depending on how old the house is, sometimes the basement. Heating ducts…"

"So that's how it's getting in?" Haley asked just as Jamie came back down the hallway, rolling down his sleeves. His mother smiled. "Hey, buddy. Ready to chow down?"

Jamie looked at Sam, a small smirking starting to form on his face. Sam narrowed his eyes at the boy, slowly rising to his feet. The others watched as they stared each other down, expression ranging from confusion to amusement. It was certainly a funny sight to see. A boy barely able to see over the couch and a man who had to duck to get through nearly every doorway having a death stare down, as if a scene from Fight Club was about to burst forth between them.

Jamie grinned, racing for the kitchen, and Sam took off after him, groaning when the boy reached the plates and food first. "Come on, you little heathen, everyone else has to eat, too!"

Dean chuckled, shaking his head as everyone laughed and started to trickle into the kitchen. Brooke stood up, quickly stepping away from the couch. "I'm going to pass, guys. Millie's still at the store, so I'm going to head back."

Nathan and Haley looked at each other before smiling and nodding, both sneaking glances to see Dean's reaction.

Dean kept trying to catch Brooke's eye as she gathered her purse and keys, but she kept her head down, eyes glued to the floor. After the door was closed behind her, Dean stared at it for a long moment, willing her to walk back in—into the house, into the room, into his arms.

He jumped to his feet after a moment, and made his way to the door, ignoring the stares that followed him, and left the house after her.

Brooke was standing next to the Impala, running her hand over its hood. She heard his footsteps stop next to her and she turned, offering a sad half-smile. "Metallicar," she said softly.

Dean stared at her for a moment, confused, before he groaned, shaking his head. "God, I forgot about that," he said.

Brooke laughed. "How? You were pissed for three days after you heard Peyton come up with that nickname."

He shrugged, laughing, and watched her gaze return to the car. "We had some good times in this thing," he said fondly, leaning up against it.

Brooke looked at him, and he knew by the look on her face that she remembered the few times they'd made love in the backseat. She nodded after a moment, smile softening.

"Do you remember that time we went up to the lake on the Fourth of July to watch the fireworks?" he asked, taking advantage of her light mood. "We laid on the hood and just watched the sky explode."

She shook her head, eyes closed as she smiled. "And you sang that God-awful song by Blue Oyster Cult."

Dean laughed. " 'Fire of Unknown Origin' just seemed to fit," he defended. She laughed again, and he relished in the sound, not knowing until now just how much he had truly missed hearing it. They let silence sit between them for a moment before Dean met her eyes. "Do you really have work to do at the store?"

Brooke shifted on her feet, shrugging. "Yeah…why else would I go there?"

"To avoid me."

She sighed, crossing her arms.

"Look, I know I'm an ass, okay? I was out of line last night."

"Dean--," she started.

"Just…let me finish, okay?" He waited for her to nod before continuing. "I'm not proud of myself, Brooke. For leaving you like I did. For not calling to at least let you know that I was okay. And I understand if you want to keep on hating me for it. God knows I deserve it. But I really wish that you would just…let me talk to you."

Brooke sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "What do you want to talk about?," she asked, shrugging. "How bad it feels to sit here waiting for you day after day, even after four years? Every time the phone rang or there was a knock at the door, I hoped—no, I PRAYED—that it was you, Dean. And then I felt stupid for it when I realized that it wasn't. Or how bad it feels to stand here now, face to face with you, and wanting nothing more than to just…lose myself in your arms and your voice, and know that as soon as this hunt is over, you're just going to leave again?"

"Why aren't you giving me a chance?" Dean asked, angry now. "Every time I try to get one second with you, you blow me off. You run off to the store or behind a closed door. How do you know what I want to talk about when you won't even give me a chance?"

"Excuse me?"

He blinked, then groaned inwardly. _Aw, damn it, Dean,_ he thought.

He recognized that tone. It was Brooke's, oh-no-you-didn't tone. The one she got when someone had severely crossed the line. He was, unfortunately, very familiar with that tone.

"I'm just…asking you to give me a chance," he answered, calming his voice.

Her hazel eyes narrowed at him. "Who's to say you even deserve a chance?"

"I know I don't deserve--,"

"And while we're on the subject, who the hell do you think you are coming back in here, being all buddy-buddy with Nathan and Haley? Oh, and Jamie. That was a nice touch, there."

"It wasn't--,"

"And now you actually have the nerve to stand here and ask me why I haven't given you a chance? Are you really that dense and pigheaded and just…ugh!" She threw her hands up, furious, and intensified her glare. "Look, I get it. You left, you moved on, and you don't want me getting all clingy and mopey and 'please don't leave me again.' Well, don't worry, Dean. You made it pretty damn clear four years ago that you didn't want me around anymore."

She turned to march to her car, angry and hurt, and gasped when a strong grip grabbed her wrist, spinning her back. She found herself flush against Dean's chest, his hands roughly grabbing her face and crushing his lips to hers. She panicked, pushing against his chest, but he only held her tighter. His kiss was rough and passionate; almost possessive. But as she melted against him, raising her arms to grip his shoulders and finally allowing herself to return the kiss, it gentled, becoming the kind of kiss that had always stolen her breath and left her wanting more.

She gasped for breath when they finally broke apart. She jumped back slightly, but not more than a few inches since his arms were still wrapped tightly around her. She stared at him, confusion and hope and fear clouding together in her eyes.

Dean sighed, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. "Damn it, Brooke Davis, are you really so stupid to believe that?"

She frowned, shaking her head.

"Brooke?"

They both looked over her shoulder, watching as a very confused Mouth slowed his steps as he approached them. He stopped a few feet from them, nodding at Dean. "Dean, I heard you were back in town." His eyes traveled to Brooke's waist, where Dean's arms were still wrapped tightly. "Uh, am I interrupting something?"

Brooke shoved at the arms that held her captive, nearly jumping back several feet to escape them, shaking her head. "No, you're not interrupting anything," she said, her voice shaky. "I was just leaving."

Dean frowned, reaching out to grab her again. "Brooke."

She shook her head, looking back at him. She held out her hand, and her eyes started to well with tears. "Please, don't," she whispered softly, taking a small step backwards. "You've done enough."

She turned on her heel and nearly raced to her car, not even glancing as she passed her long-time friend on the way.

Dean stood there as he watched her get into her car and drive away, not missing the way she swiped at her cheeks as she went. He looked over as Mouth came to stand next to him, his familiar face wearing a look of apology.

"Sorry, Dean," he said.

Dean shook his head, looking down the street at Brooke's retreating car. "Nothing to apologize for, Mouth. It just…gives me the answer I needed." He looked over at him. "You're not here to punch me or anything, are you? Because my head's still splitting from the close personal relationship it had with Peyton Sawyer's fist yesterday."

Mouth laughed, shaking his head. "Skills told me about that."

"How did Skills know?" Dean asked.

"Lucas told him."

"And how did Lucas know?"

"Peyton."

Dean nodded, remembering Brooke's comment yesterday about Lucas choosing her. He looked over as Mouth extended his hand, and he smiled, shaking it in relief.

"It's good to see you, Dean," Mouth said.

He nodded. "You too, Mouth," he said, looking once more to the now deserted street, wishing to God that he had never let her go. "You too."

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***Hides under computer desk* I swear, it's all for the greater good of the story! You HAVE to know that I hate hurting Brooke and Dean like this, but it's necessary, is swear. And I promise that the next chapter will have a bit more light-heartedness. It's going to kind of be Sam/Brooke bonding and maybe a little Dean/Brooke fluff…but past or present? I won't tell. **

**Let me know what you think!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Second Chance**

**Author's Notes: Okay…everyone is TOTALLY the best reviewers. Favorites, alerts…it's all just so incredible and I love you all for it! I'm so glad you guys are enjoying SC and feeling it all right next to Brooke and Dean. **

**So, a note for this story: Millie and Mouth are not a couple. I'm sorry!! I am a huge Millie/Mouth fan, and think they are adorable together, but the idea of Millie and Sam having a little thing makes me smile. So yeah…I guess that was a HUGE spoiler, but I had to get it out there.**

**Another note (last one, I swear!!): I've been thinking of doing a video for the story. I've seen tons of them on Youtube, and have been blown away by the greatness of them. But, I lack the creative control when it comes to videos and multimedia and stuff. So I was just curious if anyone out there would want to take a shot at a promo vid for Second Chances. Dedication in the next chapter! Just PM me if anybody interested. Just wondering, but it would be awesome! **

**Now…on to the story!**

* * *

Millicent Huxtable tapped her ink pen against the counter, pursing her lips as she intently watched her employer and friend stare mournfully out the window of Clothes Over Bros.

She'd been sitting like that for the last hour, just staring out the window, her chin in her hand.

Millie knew why. The whole company had known that it was some guy that had spurred Brooke Davis to further her small-town fashion line to what it was today. It wasn't until some time later that she had learned that the man's name was Dean. She knew that he had swept Brooke off her feet with a smoldering stare and cocky smile, but that it had been his heart--which, according to Brooke, he did everything he possibly could to hide--that had officially done her in. She knew that Brooke had been ready to abandon everything and marry the guy.

She also knew that when he left, he had taken a substantial part of Brooke with her.

So she had thrown herself into her work, making Clothes Over Bros. into a fashion empire that rivaled Ralph Lauren and Hugo Boss. Following Victoria's stead in being the face of a company--going to all the right parties, making all the right decisions, dating all the right guys. And even though it made her miserable, she still did it. She had once said that it kept her mind of him.

Then she moved back here. She came back to the small town where it all started, and even though those shadows were still in her eyes, they weren't as prominent. You had to know to look for them there to see them. She started to smile more, laugh. She was a whole new Brooke.

Now those shadows were all Millie saw. In the course of the last two days, she'd seen her friend act as if her whole world was crashing down around her.

Which, considering that Dean Winchester was staying in her house, probably wasn't far from the truth.

Dropping the pen on the counter and taking a deep breath, Millie twirled around on her stool towards Brooke. "You know what I've learned since I started watching Criminal Minds?," she blurted out, watching as Brooke glanced at her over her shoulder. "That one of the best ways to get rid of a body is by feeding it to pigs."

Brooke frowned, her assistant's words taking a moment to sink in, then turned to fully face her. "What?"

Millie nodded, clasping her hands in her lap. "Yeah, apparently they're omnivores. They'll eat pretty much anything when faced with the choice, and they apparently don't leave much left afterwards. I mean, you have to admit that it's pretty ingenious. Who would think to look in a pig pen for a dead body, you know?"

Brooke stared at her, arching an eyebrow.

Millie shrugged, watching her from behind her black-rimmed glasses. "It was on TV last night?" she said, ending her statement in the form of an unsure question. She smiled softly. "I'm just trying to get your mind off things."

Brooke nodded, pursing her lips. "With images of Piglet eating Christopher Robin?"

Millie nodded. "So maybe my mouth didn't wait for my head to come up with something better to say," she said, laughing softly. "But it would be a great way to avoid a manslaughter charge."

She sighed in relief when a small smile appeared on Brooke's face.

Brooke nodded, sighing. "Sorry, Millie," she said softly, shrugging. "I guess I'm not as detached from this whole situation as I've been insisting I am."

The young girl nodded, her long black hair falling over one shoulder in soft curls. "Sorry to say, but I'm pretty sure everybody already know that." She shrugged. "The last few months have been a nightmare for you, Brooke. Between Victoria, the attack, and now Dean showing back up…I think we'd all be worried if you were detached and calm right now."

Brooke sighed, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. "I still feel like I SHOULD be, you know? When it comes to Dean, Millie, I just…I'm so used to just being vulnerable around him. He could protect me from anything, and I mean that literally. It's taking everything in me to not just…fall into his arms and let him."

"You're making it a little hard to hate him when you talk like that, Brooke," Millie joked.

Brooke smiled. "Tell me about it."

She saw Millie's brown eyes widen just as she heard the bell to the store ringing behind her. She turned, seeing Sam carrying his towering frame through the doorway, and glanced back to see her assistant's face turning a deep shade of red. She smirked softly. _It must be a Winchester thing,_ she thought with a chuckle. She turned to Sam, noting his scowl, and smiled. "Who peed in your Cheerios?"

The scowl deepened. "Jamie."

Brooke frowned. "He actually peed in your Cheerios?"

Sam grimaced. "No, that's disgusting," he said, wrinkling his nose. "He's just being a menacing little heathen. Funny how all the food he seems to be starving for is all the food I want." He shook his head and looked around the sparsely store, finally noticing that they weren't alone. His eyes widened when they spotted the young brunette sitting at the counter, her eyes fixed on the floor, avoiding his gaze. She was pretty. Really pretty, now that he thought about it. "Sorry, I didn't realize you were with someone."

Brooke smiled brightly, looking over her shoulder. "No worries. Sam, this is Millie, my personal assistant and close friend. Millie, this is Sam. Dean's younger brother."

Sam watched as the girl's eyes slowly rose to meet his, and he was amazed at how her glasses seemed to just intensify their beauty. She smiled softly. "Nice to meet you," she said in a small voice, waving a hand in greeting.

Sam nodded. "You too," he said, shoving his hands into his back pockets nervously. He rocked back on his heels, eyes scanning the store, looking everywhere but at the pretty fashion assistant. "So…."

"So….," Millie said, nodded.

"So…," Brooke laughed. "You guys are just too cute." She shook her head, smiling. "What's going on, Sam? Aside from you being completely tormented by my 5-year-old godson?"

Sam shrugged, indicating the laptop messenger bag on his shoulder. "Your house was getting a little crowded. And I didn't want to be responsible for locking the little monster in the closet if he stole another dinner roll, so I thought I'd maybe do some…research here." He flicked his eyes to Millie, smiling when he saw her drop her gaze quickly, and looked back at Brooke. "If it's not any trouble, that is."

Brooke shook her head, holding out her hands to display her clothes-less store and empty mannequins. "It's not as if the customers are breaking down the door," she quipped. She dropped her hands into her lap. "We were pretty much just wrapping it up anyway. Nothing was really getting accomplished."

"Oh," Sam said, watching as Millie stood from her seat and walked behind the counter, gathering her purse and jacket. "So…you're leaving then?"

Millie looked up at him, dumbfounded.

"She is," Brooke answered for her.

She nodded. "Yeah, um…my cupboards are completely empty," she rambled, shrugging into her coat and fumbling with her car keys. "Groceries are pretty essential to survival." She winced. _Good one, Millicent._

Sam laughed. "Yeah, I guess they are. So um…maybe we'll see each other again…sometime. You know, since my brother and I will be in town for a bit."

Brooke watched as Millie smiled shyly, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "Yeah…maybe. I'm usually where Brooke is."

Sam nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

They smiled at each other again, and Brooke watched them closely, smiling softly until Millie made her way out the door, softly saying goodbye over her shoulder. She grinned at Sam as he blatantly followed her as she went.

"Smooth," she said, chuckling.

He turned back around, smiling. "She seems…nice."

"Nice and pretty?" Brooke asked, grinning.

He laughed, shrugging, and made his way to the counter.

"She's single," she added, arching her eyebrow as his back straightened at the news. She laughed. "Fine, pretend you don't hear me. See if I care. 'Cause I don't. Unless you screw with her. Then you're just a dead man."

Sam laughed, unloading his laptop and sitting on the stool that the pretty brunette had just been sitting on. "Gotcha," he said, powering up the computer and loading the internet. He cruised through several search engines and online newspapers for the next few minutes, eyes every now and then traveling to Brooke only to see her sitting with her arms wrapped around themselves, staring out the front windows. "Can I ask you something?" he said after awhile.

She looked at him, raising her eyebrows.

"If you don't want to talk about it, it's fine. It's just that…since coming here and meeting all of you, I'm learning that there's this side to my brother that I never even knew about. I mean, a side of Dean that I wasn't sure could even have existed. And, I have to say that it makes me curious." He looked at her and she nodded at him.

"Ask away."

He looked back to his computer screen. "When did you first realize you were in love with Dean?"

He heard her laugh. "Is that really want you wanted to ask?"

"Uh…yeah, actually it was," he said, smiling.

Brooke sighed, dropping her hands into her lap and raised her gaze to the ceiling. "It happened over time, I guess," she said. "It wasn't love at first sight or anything like that Lust, maybe, but…no, not love. And you can wipe that disgusted look off your face, Sammy, because I'm not going into detail."

He sighed, relieved, and turned back to his computer. "Don't call me Sammy," he said softly, motioning for her to continue.

She smiled, shaking her head. "Did you ever see that movie Big Fish?" she asked. "With the hot guy from Star Wars and the pubescent looking girl from Flicka?"

Sam frowned, thinking for a moment. "I'm pretty sure I did," he said. "Where all the dude's stories seem too big to be true?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Well, do you remember the scene where he sees her for the first time? At the carnival?" He nodded. "Everything just…stopped. All he saw was her and her alone. It didn't matter that there were a million things going on around him, because she was it." She sighed, smiling softly. "It was kind of like that."

_

* * *

_

"_You're not ruining your life, Brooke," Haley said, taking a sip from her drink as she sat back down at the table._

_Brooke nodded, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. She, Peyton, and Haley sat at one of the tables in the back of Tric, nursing their drinks as she vented once again at how her mother insisted she was destroying her career and ruining her life. "All in the name of 'love'," she'd said with a sneer. _

"_Bitchtoria is just miserable and…well…a bitch," Peyton said, giggling. When Brooke only nodded, she slapped her lightly on the arm. "Come on, B. Davis, you know better! You and Dean are mad crazy about each other, Clothes Over Bros. is doing really well, considering it's just an internet company pretty much. Your mom is just freaking jealous that she can't control it all like she wants to. You know that by going into business with her, it won't be yours anymore. She'll take credit for everything and you'll just be the face of it all."_

_Brooke sighed. "I know all that," she said, raising her head. "She just doesn't get that I'm happy, you know?"_

"_She's not around enough to know you're happy, Brooke," Haley added. "She stops by, what, once every month or so, dropping of company ideas and tearing every aspect of your life now down. She's only in town enough to piss you off. Not to mention Dean, the last few times. Nathan said he was really upset the last time your mom stopped by."_

_Brooke nodded. "Upset" was an understatement. Dean had only met Victoria once, but once had been enough. As soon as she'd walked through the door, she'd been eyeing him critically, trying to pinpoint every flaw or characteristic she didn't approve of. Which was pretty much everything, they'd come to find out. Dean had ripped Victoria a new one, saying that she'd better not show her face when he was around and that she had better watch the way she talked to her daughter. Victoria had simply smirked and walked out the door, saying some degrading quip over her shoulder as she left._

_Dean had been so angry he actually slammed the Impala's door._

"_Speaking of, does Dean know Vicwhoria was in town today?" Haley continued, popping a few peanuts into her mouth._

_Brooke nodded. "I told him before I came here. It just drives me crazy, you know? She won't even give him a chance. She won't even give me a chance. What the hell kind of mother does that? You know, one of these days, she is going to come riding her broom in here and Dean is going to wake up and realize that he's living with a girl with a crazy ass mother and think, 'God what is she's like that in 10 years,' he's going to go back to hunting all the time, and I'm never going to see him again. Then I really will be just like her." She groaned, dropping her head onto the table and covering it with her hands._

"_Come on, Brooke, you know that's not true," Haley said, patting her back. "Dean is so not the type of guy to go running the other way just because of some scary Godzilla mom. I mean he's really just…here."_

_Brooke looked up at her. "What?"_

_Haley pointed to the stage and Peyton and Brooke looked over to see Dean walking across it, microphone in hand. They frowned in confusion as he came to a step, looking out into the audience as he brought the microphone to his lips. "Excuse me?" he announced, raising his hand above his head._

_The chatter and music died down as everyone turned to look at him, and he smiled uncertainly. "Hi," he said. "The name's Dean."_

_Brooke arched an eyebrow, sitting straight up in her seat. "What's he doing?"_

"_Most of you know me as the local mechanic," Dean was continuing. "Maybe even some of you remember me crashing my car in the center of town a few months ago. And pretty much everyone knows that I'm the boyfriend of a beautiful girl named Brooke." _

_Several heads turned in the direction of Brooke's table and she frowned, catching Dean's eye from her seat and holding her hands in question._

"_See, the thing about Brooke is that she's gorgeous. I mean all of her, you know? Her hair, her eyes, her face. Especially her smile. Her smile could bring the toughest badass to his knees. I know that I sure as hell love waking up to it every morning. Except for the fact that today, that smile hasn't graced her face once." _

_He caught her eyes from across the club, and she knew that when he started talking again, he'd be talking only to her. "And the thing is, I hate it when that happens. And she knows it. I mean, she can't help it. Not anymore than she can help looking beautiful every second of every day. But it still rips me apart when she's not smiling." He smiled then, glancing over at the DJ booth before turning back to the crowd. "So when I walked in here tonight and saw her sitting at her table, not smiling, I made a decision. I enlisted the help of my friend Nathan," he said, pointing over to the DJ booth. "You all know Nathan Scott, I'm sure."_

_Haley gasped when she saw her husband shaking his head with a smile, rearranging CD's in the small booth. "What in the world?"_

"_See, I'm about to make a complete idiot out of myself to make that girl smile," he said, running a hand through his spiky hair. "It bothers me THAT much. So, Brooke Davis, this had better bring one big ass smile to your pretty little face. And to everyone else…you have no idea how sorry I am for what you're about to witness." He took a deep breath, and nodded over at Nathan._

_Nathan smiled and hit a button, the beginning strains of "Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You" pouring from the speakers. He gave a thumbs up, laughing, and stepped away from the booth, heading towards his wife's table just as Dean started to sing under his breath._

"_**You're just too good to be true…"**_

_Laughter bubbled from the crowd as Nathan reached their table, grinning as he pecked Haley on the cheek and shrugged when Brooke looked up at him quizzically. "He explained the whole thing," he said, holding up his hands as he took a seat. _

"_**Can't take my eyes off of you."**_

_Brooke pressed her lips together, fighting against the smile that desperately wanted to break across her face as she watched the man she'd been living with for the last three months make a complete fool of himself right before her eyes._

"_**You'd be like Heaven to touch. I wanna hold you so much."**_

_Haley burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand as she glanced at Brooke, eyes wide in surprise and amusement. "Can you believe this?" she asked._

_Brooke shook her head, clearing her throat against the laughter that bubbled there. "Not really," she said, trying to keep a straight face._

"_**At long last love has arrived…and I thank…God I'm alive,"** Dean continued, stumbling over the lyrics amidst the laughter and cheers.** "You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off of you."**_

_Nathan whooped and started clapping, shaking his head as the rest of the club quickly followed suit, and he could see Dean's glare from where he sat. He shrugged, motioning with his head to Brooke over his shoulder. His friend shook his head and turned on his heel, heading for the stairs that led to the dance floor._

"_**Pardon the way that I stare. There's nothing else to compare."**_

_He made his way down the stairs, causing the crowd to cheer louder when they caught wind of what his plan was._

_Apparently Peyton knew then as well, because her laughter was easily heard over the claps and cheers as she wrapped an arm around Brooke's shoulders. Brooke shook her head, closing her eyes in slight embarrassment as she braced her elbow on the table, covering her mouth with her hand to hide the way her lips turned up in a smile. _

_Damn Dean Winchester, his plan was working._

"_**The sight of you leaves me weak. There are no words left to speak."**_

_A smile was breaking out on Dean's face with every step he took towards her table, and he could tell that she was fighting with all her might not to smile. She was enjoying his embarrassment far too much for his liking, but he wouldn't stop until that gorgeous smile came over her face again._

"_**But if you feel what I feel. Please let me know that it's real. You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off of you."**_

_He grinned, watching as Nathan and Haley stood and moved away from the table, and he did a quick turn on his heel, dropping his knee onto Haley's stool and leaning close to Brooke._

"_**I love you, Baby, and if it's quite alright, I need you, Baby, to warm those…lonely nights. I love you, Baby. Trust in me when I say: Oh, pretty baby, don't bring me down, I pray. Oh pretty baby, now that I've found you…stay. Let me love you, baby, let me love you…"**_

_Brooke simply shook her head, moving her hand to reveal a straight face, and arched an eyebrow at him._

"_Come on, Brooke, I'm just going to keep going until you smile." Her eyebrow arched higher, and he shrugged, throwing back his head.** "I love you, Baby, and if it's quite alright--"**_

_A hand shot out and covered his mouth quickly, and he looked down to see Brooke grinning, shaking her head._

"_It's not alright," she whispered, tilting her head to the side. "You're really, REALLY bad."_

_Dean smiled, shrugging, and tossed the microphone to Nathan who, being the basketball player he was, caught it easily. He turned back to her, leaning his hands against the table and pressed his lips against hers as her arm came up, wrapping themselves around his neck. They pulled apart to the sound of cheers and applause, and Dean held a fist up in the air. "Thank you, thank you very much!" he yelled._

_Brooke laughed. "What were you thinking, you lunatic," she asked, shaking her head. "You hate singing in front of people."_

_Dean nodded, pursing his lips as he cocked his head to the side. "Yeah. But it was all worth it to see that smile on your face." _

_Peyton laughed next to them, shaking her head. "Dude, that was, like, worse than terrible," she said. "I can almost guarantee that someone had a camera phone going, and you bet your ass we're getting a hold of that footage."_

_Dean glared at her over Brooke's shoulder. "Do it and die, Sawyer."_

_Nathan and Haley stepped back up to the table then, both laughing and ribbing their friend, and Brooke just sat back and watched the scene play out before her. _

_The music and dancing and conversing had started back up around them, but it was all just white noise in her head. She was watching as Dean took a seat next to her, clasping her hand tight within his own. She shook her head, fighting against the tears that were threatening to well in her eyes, and she smiled softly when he turned back to look at her. He frowned, leaning in closer to her._

"_Come on, I wasn't THAT bad, was I?" he asked, lowering his voice. She closed her eyes, shaking her head, and felt his hand come up to cradle her cheek. "Then why the hell are you crying?"_

_She shrugged, looking at him. "I just realized something," she said, biting her lower lip as she searched his face. He waited for her to continue, and she smiled, leaning in a little closer. "Despite everything--crazy psycho moms and demons and…really, really bad singing…not to mention the embarrassment that will be sure to be talked about for a long time to come…Despite all of that, Dean Winchester…I'm pretty sure that I love you."_

_Dean nodded for a long moment, sighing, and Brooke felt her heart plummet to her stomach when he lowered his head. She was about to laugh it off, play it like a joke, when his hold on her hand tightened and he pulled her closer, nearly yanking her off her seat. He looked up at her, grinning that cocky, arrogant smile of his. "It's about damn time, Davis," he said, shaking his head. _

_She grinned, looping her arms around his neck, and brought their lips together once more._

_

* * *

_

"Bullshit!"

Brooke shrugged, smiling at the memory, and laughed. "Bullshit all you want, that's the way it happened."

Sam laughed, shaking his head. "I'll be damned. Who knew Dean even knew the lyrics to anything by Frankie Valli." He looked over at Brooke, noting her happy smile, and couldn't help but smile himself. "So that was it then, huh?"

She nodded. "Yeah. That was…pretty much it. The rest is history." She smirked. "Literally. Six months later he was gone."

"But now he's back."

She looked at him, shrugging. "So?"

"So…," Sam said, turning to face her. "Who says it's over?"

"It is over, Sam," Brooke replied. "He left so…it's over."

He smiled. "He hasn't talked to you at all, has he? About any of it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm just saying that it's not all black and white, Brooke. There's a bit more to the story and I just think, as hard as it is for you to do, you should hear him out on it." He turned back to his laptop, shaking his head before she could even say anything. "I'm not saying anything more, Davis. Suck it up and ask him."

Brooke sighed, turning back to the window and leaning her chin on her hand once more. Dean's words from the driveway echoed in her head, the fierceness and longing in his eyes burned in her memory. Add to that the statement Sam had just made, and she had more than enough reason to doubt.

But which one of them she doubted, she wasn't too sure.

_

* * *

_

_**Mmmm…I'm not so sure how well this chapter turned out. I'm pretty torn. I can't really tell if I like it or hate it…so I suppose I'm going to leave it up to you all! Let me know what you all think!**_


	8. Chapter 8

**Second Chance**

**Disclaimer: Own nothing. Dean is not mine. I'm going to go run off and cry now.**

* * *

"We're running out of time, Sam," Dean said, pacing the floor of his room. "This thing is going to take another kid in less than a week. We don't know what the hell it's doing to them, what it wants with them, what the hell it is. We're getting nowhere."

Sam sighed, running a hand through his shaggy hair, and looked up at him from his place on the bed. "Maybe we should call Bobby," he suggested, stifling a yawn. "You know, get a fresh set of eyes."

Dean groaned, running a hand down his weary face. "Yeah, maybe. I don't know, Sam. There's something about this case…None of it seems right."

"Does it ever seem right?" Sam asked, chuckling. He shrugged when his brother sent a glare his direction. "Sorry. It's just been a long day, I guess. Maybe we should just call it a night; pick it all back up in the morning." He stood, stretching, and made his way to the door.

"Sam?"

He turned back at his brother's voice. "Yeah?"

Dean sighed, looking up at him. "Is she okay?" he asked. "I mean…you spent the day with her today. Was she…did she say anything?"

Sam smiled, shaking his head. "Dean…I'm staying out of it. This whole tap dance you and Brooke have going on; the both of you tiptoeing and being afraid of saying anything to each other…it's gone on long enough. You both just need to bite the bullet and talk it out. Or scream it out. Or whatever." He looked at Dean, shrugging. "Just talk to her, Dean." His brother dropped his head, rubbing the back of his neck, and Sam turned to go. He stopped with his hand on the door knob and turned back slightly, a smirk on his face. "Hey, Dean…do you have any Frankie Vallie CD's?"

Dean snapped his head up, frowning. "What?"

"You know…Frankie Vallie. From what I hear you're a big fan."

Dean stared at him for a moment, not getting the joke, before it dawned on him. He glared at his younger brother, groaning.

Sam laughed, shaking his head. "It really is too good to be true."

"Shut up and the get the hell out of here, you jack ass," Dean said, turning his back on his brother.

Sam laughed again, opening the door and walking out, shaking his head.

Dean sat on the edge of his bed, sighing a weary sigh, and dropped his head in his hands.

He remembered that night well. How heartbroken she'd sounded on the phone. She'd been well onto her fourth drink by the time he'd walked into Tric, Nathan on his heels. He knew she hated it when she drank after talking to her mother. It made her feel weak, is what she said. Reminded her that her mother would probably always have control over her, no matter what she did. So he'd sucked it up and, with the help of Nathan, proceeded to humiliate himself.

But it had all been worth it to hear her say those three words to him.

His door opened again, and he sighed. "Shut it, Sammy, it's not funny."

"What's not funny?"

His head snapped up, surprise on his face when he saw Brooke standing in the doorway, her cotton robe knotted tightly around her waist. Her hair was up in a messy bun again, her face clear of make-up.

She was almost most beautiful when she getting ready for bed.

Dean shrugged, shaking his head. "Nothing," he said, smirking. "Sam's just…being a pain."

Brooke nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. "Can we talk?" she asked softly; so soft he could barely hear her.

He stared at her a moment, not quite believing what she was saying, before he nodded, resting his elbows on his knees and folding his hands together. He watched her take a hesitant step towards the bed, and then another and another until she reached. She sat on the end of the bed, swiping at a stray bang that fell into her eyes. She sighed, looking at him.

"How's the eye?" she asked softly.

Dean shrugged. "Not nearly as well before Peyton sucker punched it."

Brooke laughed softly, shaking her head. "I talked to her about that."

"Hey, it's fine," he said, smiling. "Hell, everybody knows I deserved it. I think we were all just surprised that it wasn't your fist." He looked at her, noting the dark circles under her eyes, and realized that maybe he hadn't been the only one not sleeping. "I sure as hell was."

She shrugged a shoulder, avoiding his gaze.

"So, um…what did you want to talk about?" he asked carefully, not wanting to ruin the fact that she was sitting less than a foot away from him.

Brooke sighed, raising her gaze to the ceiling. "You weren't planning on telling me you were here," she stated, looking at him. "Before I walked in Haley's house and realized…you were just going to do the job and leave, right?"

Dean stared at her, looking into those hazel eyes that he could never get out of his mind, no matter how many women he chased after. Hers were the eyes he saw when he closed his own.

She nodded, taking his silence as a confirmation. "What I need to know is if that was because you didn't want to see me…or you _couldn't_ see me." He looked back at her, confused. "What I mean, Dean, is if I really meant nothing to you, why wouldn't you just let me know you were in town? I know it's not because you're a coward. You're the bravest man I've ever met, not the mention the most proud. You've never given up; not once. John instilled that in you. To never give up.

"So, it makes me wonder…why you gave up on me."

Dean closed his eyes, sighing. "Brooke…"

"What you said earlier," she interrupted, turning herself more towards him. "In the driveway, after you kissed me. You said, 'Could you really be that stupid, Brooke Davis.' What did you mean?"

He dropped his head into his hands. "What do you think it means?" he asked, almost harshly, because he knew that she'd figured it out.

She always did.

The anger was evident in her voice now. "What I think it means is that you threw away nearly five years--FIVE years--of our life together, not because you wanted to, but because you felt you had to. In which case, it means YOU are the stupid one, Dean Winchester." She leaned towards him slightly, glaring. "Now I need you to look me in the eye and tell me that that's not the case. That you didn't throw our entire life together away because of some stupid demonic threat or omen or God knows what else. Because if that's true, it breaks my heart even more than believing that you didn't love me anymore. Because it means that you didn't have faith in me or in yourself or in our ability to overcome anything that came between us. Human or not."

Dean sighed, running a hand down his face. He turned to her, angry now himself. "What the hell do you want from me, Brooke? I had to protect you."

"Protect me--"

"Yes, damn it, protect you! I could have fought it all I wanted, but I knew that something was there, and the second it saw you…it wanted you. And that was my worst fear. That my being a hunter and being with you would endanger your life. Do you honestly think I could have lived with myself if I failed, Brooke? If whatever the damn thing was got you? Did you ever think of that?"

"You owed it to me to be honest about it, Dean. Instead of just leaving in the middle of the night without a word."

"No, I owed it to you to do EVERYTHING in my power to keep you alive. Why can't you get it through your thick skull that I did it to protect you?"

Brooke screamed, shoving him with a force strong enough to knock it back slightly. "You didn't do it to protect me, you selfish bastard, you did it to protect yourself! You chose to run and abandon everything we had together instead of fighting it out, Dean! We were happy, God damn it, and you ruined it all because of some stupid, Hunter instinct." Dean shot back up, glaring. "What if it had been wrong, Dean? Huh? What if that feeling had been just that: a feeling? A stupid, unsupportable feeling and because you were such a coward--"

"A coward?"

"Yeah, a coward," she said, gritting her teeth and pointing an accusatory finger at him. "A spineless, bone-headed coward ,because you could have been wrong. There could have been nothing after us, Dean, and we could have gone on living just like we were. Or we could have fought whatever the hell it was or found some way to stop it. We could have been fine, Dean. But because you made the decision; because you chose to leave instead of sticking around to find out, we'll never know."

She jumped to her feet and turned away, intent on leaving, but a strong grip grabbed a hold of her wrist, jerking her back to face him. She came flush against his chest, staring up into his angry face. She shoved against him, but his arms held her tightly. He shook her roughly, forcing her head up so they were eye to eye.

"Yeah, we'll never know," he said harshly, his voice low. "And that's my fault. And don't you dare think for one second that I haven't regretted it everyday since. That I haven't tormented myself day in and day out wondering if I made the right decision. Because I didn't. Alright? I was wrong, and I would give anything to take it all back, Brooke. But I can't. Okay, I've had to live with that. But you didn't, which was why I stayed away."

Brooke shook her head, tears filling her eyes as she gritted her teeth. "So instead, you made me live with the idea that you didn't love me anymore?" she demanded in a heartbroken whisper. "I lost myself, Dean. To bitterness and hate and…despair. I missed who I was with you. And I fought so hard to find that girl again, but no matter how hard I looked, she was nowhere to be found. Because she was with you. She's always…been with you."

Dean reached up and cradled her face in his hands, choking back the tears that he knew wanted to break free. "If I could take it back, Brooke, I would," he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers gently. He watched as she closed her eyes at the contact, and he stroked her hair gently. "I would in a heartbeat, please…please believe me."

"How can I?" she whispered.

"Because I have never stopped loving you." She shook her head, starting to pull away. He cradled her face, wiping the tears from under her eyes. "Look at me, Brooke." Her eyes slowly opened to look up at his. "Never. Alright? And I'm so sorry."

Brooke sobbed, covering his hands with her own.

"I'm so sorry," he repeated, feeling the sting of tears against his eyes. "I can never say it enough times, Brooke. I can never take it back. And I know I can never make it up to you. And I am dreading when this case is over because I'm terrified that it's going to happen all over again. That you'll never be able to forgive me. But I really need you to, Brooke." He pulled back, staring at her. "So please, put me out of my misery and tell me that I'm not too late. Tell me that there is still a small part of you that loves me--despite my dumbass ways or IN spite of them, I don't really care. Just please tell me that I didn't completely destroy us. That I didn't completely destroy you. Tell me you still love me, Brooke. Please."

She looked at him, shaking her head, and he felt his heart plummet to his stomach. He closed his eyes and started to pull away, but her hand touching his cheek stopped him.

"You're such a freaking jack ass, Dean Winchester," she whispered softly. "But as much I might have tried to convince myself otherwise…I do love you. Just as much as I did four years ago."

Dean smiled, laughing quietly under his breath, and cupped her face between his hands. "Brooke Davis, you have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that." He saw a small smile appear on her face, and it was all the motivation he needed to pull her close and crush his lips to her own.

Brooke sighed at the feeling of his lips on hers, relishing at just how right it felt. This was how it should have been the last four years--them together, in the way they fit the best.

Her hands traveled under his t-shirt and Dean lifted his arms as she pulled it off of him. He reached for her robe, pushing it off her shoulders and crushing her body back to him. Their breathing was ragged as they stumbled backwards, Dean pulling her tank top off just as they collapsed on the bed in a tangle of limbs.

As he pulled her close again and kissed her with all the passion he could muster, he realized that his world made sense again.

* * *

"You know, you were always really great at this," Dean said hours later as he held Brooke against his bare chest, softly caressing her shoulder. Her breath tickled his chest as she laughed.

"You weren't so bad yourself, Winchester," she mumbled softly, tracing patterns on his skin with her fingertips. She sighed, closing her eyes as she rested her head on his chest. "It's crazy, you know?"

"What is?"

"How well it just fits."

Dean chuckled, grinning. "That's kind of the point, Brooke."

She slapped his arm, grinning when he laughed harder. "That's not what I mean, you perv. Way to ruin the moment." She felt his lips graze her forehead and she shrugged. "I mean you and me. All the fighting and avoiding each other and everything. Just to end up like this again. It just…makes sense you know?"

Dean nodded, closing his eyes. "Yeah. I know."

They laid in silence for several minutes, listening to the other's quiet breathing, before Brooke's quiet voice reached his ears again.

"What happens tomorrow?"

He sighed, staring up at the ceiling, and cradled her close to his chest, trailing his fingers along her back. "I don't know," he said honestly, listening as her breathing evened out as she fell into a blissful slumber against him. He pressed his lips to her forehead once more as he closed his eyes. "I have absolutely no clue."

And for the first night in over four years, wrapped in the arms of the one girl he wished he'd never let get away, Dean Winchester fell into a deep and blissful sleep.

* * *

**Awww…I love it when they make up! All is right in the world again. Well…for now at least. **

**Let me know what you think!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Second Chances**

**A.N.: Sorry it's taken so freaking long to update, guys! Life has just been caarazzy!! Hopefully this chapter makes up for the absence.**

**Also…Lucas isn't in this story, apart from brief mentionings. 'Cause I don't like him. So…yeah.**

**Disclaimer: Dean is not mine. Hell, even Sam isn't even mine….man. My life sucks.**

* * *

Chapter Nine

Dean Winchester was comfortable doing a lot of things.

He could reassemble a gun in under 60 seconds with his eyes closed. He could recite a Latin exorcism even while being throttled by a demon. He could name any lyric to any Metallica song.

But when it came to kissing Brooke Davis, he truly felt at home.

The beginning rays of sunshine were streaming through the gap in the drapes, illuminating the rumpled bed. Dean was lying over her, bracing his weight on his arms so as not to crush her underneath him. His breathing was just as ragged as hers as he pressed a kiss to her swollen lips. He smoothed her dark hair away from her damp forehead as her hands trailed down his back, her nails scraping softly against his skin.

Brooke Davis made sense to him, more than anything else in the world.

She sighed against his lips, opening her big hazel eyes to stare up at him. "There's only so long we can avoid it, Dean," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Avoid what?" he asked, pressing his forehead to hers.

Brooke closed her eyes. "Reality."

Dean sighed, dropping his head to her shoulder as he rolled off of her. He settled next to her on the bed, one arm still draped across her waist. He ran a hand through his ruffled hair, staring up at the ceiling. He shivered when he felt her fingers trail up his arm, and it took every ounce of strength he had not to take her again right there. "Reality is overrated, Davis," he said, looking over at her with a wise-cracking grin.

She smiled softly at him. "Always was," she agreed. "But it doesn't mean that it's not waiting outside the door regardless."

He sighed, nodding. And so their trip on Cloud Nine was over. "I need to call Bobby," he said, pushing himself up onto his elbow to look down at her. "This whole hunt…there's too many contradictions. None of it makes sense."

Brooke arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. "Does it ever make sense?"

He laughed, grinning. "YOU make sense," he said, leaning down and pressing another kiss to her lips. Which led to another. And another.

Her arm came to wrap around his neck. "Dean," she murmured against him, feeling his hand trailing down her side.

He shook his head, pulling her closer. "Reality can wait a few more minutes, Brooke."

A sharp knock on the door rang through the room, and they jumped apart when it swung open. "Dean, get your lazy ass--whoa!"

Sam quickly averted his eyes, spinning to face the wall as Brooke hiked the sheet up to cover her chest and Dean groaned, glaring. "Apparently, it can't," the brunette muttered to him, running a hand through her tangled hair. "Morning, Sam."

Sam nodded, not daring to turn around just yet. "Morning, Brooke," he said, shifting on his feet. "I, uh…didn't expect to see you in here. Not that I SAW you or anything. I just meant here, here…in Dean's room." He groaned and ran a hand down his face as he backtracked, ignoring her soft laugh and his brother's quiet growl.

"Sammy, do you mind getting the hell out of here?" Dean asked, glaring at his brother's back.

"Yeah, no problem," Sam added, reaching back for the doorknob as he heading into the hallway. He hesitated before turning around, releasing a sigh of relief when he saw that everything was properly covered. "Haley and Nathan are downstairs with Jamie. You guys might want to, uh, fix the sex hair before you head down." He shut the door just as a pillow came flying his way and he laughed when it hit the door with a muted thump. He shook his head, heading down the hallway. "Glad to see they worked things out."

* * *

"Alright…let's hear it."

Haley looked up at Brooke as the brunette rounded the corner into the kitchen. She frowned, chewing on a piece of blueberry muffin. "Hear what?"

Brooke arched an eyebrow, bracing her hands against the countertop. "Come on, Hales. I know you're dying to lecture or 'I-told-you-so' after what Sam told you, so just get it over with."

Haley frowned, shaking her head slightly.

Brooke's face fell. "Sam didn't say anything?" Haley shook her head, and Brooke laughed uncomfortably. "Huh. How 'bout that?"

Haley's eyes narrowed at her as she talked and Brooke dropped her gaze to the floor, clearing her throat as she turned to the fridge.

"Brooke…" Haley said, sliding off her stool.

"Huh?" she asked nonchalantly, pulling out a gallon of milk as she avoided her perceptive friend's gaze.

"What would Sam have told me that you would need a lecture on?" she asked, crossing her arms as she strolled over to her friend. She stared at Brooke's back, watching as the brunette shifted on her feet, her gaze still riveted on the milk jug. She shrugged, and Haley's eyes widened when the pieces started to fall together. "Brooke…"

"Morning," Dean said as he turned the corner, stopping dead in his tracks when he caught sight of the two women.

Haley took one look at Brooke's embarrassed face and the look of guilt on Dean's, and she gasped. "Oh, my God. You guys totally had sex!"

"Whoa, okay!"

Haley turned to see Nathan standing in the doorway, his hands over Jamie's ears as he glared at his wife. She winced apologetically at her husband.

"Can we avoid the s-e-x word around the five-year-old, please?" Nathan asked, gently shoving his son in the direction of the living room as he made his way into the kitchen. He looked over his shoulder to make sure Jamie was out of earshot before he spoke again. "What about sex, now?"

Haley smirked and motioned to Brooke and Dean like she was revealing the prize behind the curtain.

Nathan looked at his two friends staring intently at the floor and laughed. "Nice," he said, smiling over at his wife. "You owe me fifty bucks."

Dean scoffed. "You guys were betting how long it would take Brooke and me to end up in bed?"

Nathan shrugged, pocketing the bill that Haley reluctantly handed over. "Dude…it's you and Brooke."

He pursed his lips, shrugging, and looked over at Brooke when she huffed. "He's got a point," he said.

She glared at him, sitting the milk jug on the counter. "Doesn't mean he has to make a big show out of it."

Haley laughed, wrapping her arm around Brooke's shoulder. "Aww…just like the good ole days," she joked, smiling when her friend shoved her away. "Oh, come on, Brooke! You know I say it out of love!!"

Dean shook his head, watching as Haley chased after the girl of his dreams, both laughing as they raced down the hall.

"Damn, is that a smile?" Nathan asked, taking a seat on Haley's vacated stool. "You must have gotten lucky last night."

Dean shook his head, reaching the milk jug and twisting off its top before he took a long swig. He wiped his mouth, looking at his friend. Nathan's smile had slowly slipped away, and he sat staring at him. He raised his eyebrows, waiting.

"Don't mess with her, Dean," he said. "I mean it. You didn't see how dark she got last time. Don't break her heart again."

Dean nodded, leaning against the counter, and met Nathan's hard gaze. "I won't," he promised. "Trust me, Nate. I doubt I could survive it again."

Nathan nodded, reaching for a glass of orange juice. "Good," he said. "Because Peyton wouldn't stop a sucker punch if you did."

And just like that, they were alright again. Dean smiled, shaking his head, amazed at how easy it was for him to fall back into this routine. Banter and ribbing with Nathan. Teasing with Haley. And with Brooke…well, with Brooke he hadn't quite gotten back into a routine. Hell, he wasn't sure how he was supposed to. But if last night was any indication that he had a shot in hell of pulling it off, he was going to do everything in his power to do it.

He wouldn't lose her again.

* * *

"All this damn town is, is basketball courts and one way streets!!"

Brooke jumped up from her spot next to Jamie on the couch and launched herself at the man that was walking in her front door.

Bobby Singer staggered back at the sudden impact, reaching his arms up to steady them both. He laughed, wrapping his arms around the slender girl and hugged her back. "Dimples, it's damn good to see you," he said to her softly, patting her on the back.

She pulled away, grinning up at the older hunter that she'd come to love as her own. "You too, Bobby," she said.

Dean shoved his way past the two of them, Bobby's overstuffed duffel bag slung over his shoulder. "Jesus, Bobby, can't you at least get inside the door before you manhandle her?"

Bobby shrugged, wrapping an arm around Brooke as they made their way to the living room. "Can't help it if Brooke and I are overdue for our five year itch, boy," he said, drawing a giggle out of Brooke. It had been their inside joke, and it had driven Dean crazy every time they brought it up. They could hear him muttering as he flung the bag to the ground and they couldn't help but smile.

Sam stood up they approached and he enveloped Bobby in a quick embrace. "Thanks for coming, Bobby," he said, nodding.

"It's no problem, son," he said, smiling as he looked down at Jamie. "Jamie Scott. Last time I saw you, you were in a high chair spitting strained peas in Dean's face."

Jamie wrinkled his nose at him, shrugging. "Must have been a long time ago," he said. "I hate peas."

"Me too, buddy," Dean said, walking up to them and wrapping an arm around Brooke's waist. He expected her to pull away, but she merely leaned into him after a moment, resting her hand on his chest. He didn't miss the way Jamie's face lit up like a Christmas tree when he spotted them, and he grinned, sending the kid a quick wink. "Hey, Jamie, why don't you go help your mom and dad in the kitchen? Pretty sure there's chocolate cake hiding in the back of the fridge, so tell your mom Sam said you could have a piece."

Sam protested as Jamie jumped up and raced to the kitchen. "Dude, seriously," he said, glaring at his brother. "If I end up on the end of a pissed off mom, I'm going to shoot you in your sleep."

Dean shrugged. "She's short, Sammy. Take her out at the knees, she'll go down in a second."

"Ha ha," Haley sounded from the kitchen, causing them all the chuckle.

Bobby clapped his hands together, sitting down on one of the overstuffed chairs. "Okay, boys. Fill me in."

* * *

Brooke hummed softly to herself as she switched a load in the dryer. She couldn't help the smile that was slowly creeping up her face.

If you had told her a week ago that she'd be doing laundry while Dean Winchester sat out in her living room, she'd have laughed in your face.

If you'd told her she would also be sleeping with him again, she probably would have had you committed.

But here she was, tossing T-shirts and jeans that belonged to Dean and his brother into an empty clothes basket, and she couldn't help but feel a little giddy.

This was how she always imagined her life being. Sorting through her and Dean's laundry, wondering what to make for dinner, if they would make love that night or just lay in each other's arms. If she would wake up to his kiss or vice versa. Just the way it should be.

But not the way it was.

She frowned as she folded a button-up shirt, trying to fight against the feeling in the pit of her stomach that was telling her it wouldn't last. What was going to happen when this case was over? Did she really expect him to stick around in Tree Hill while Sam went back on the road, hunting evil from town to town?

She sighed. No. She didn't expect him to.

But she desperately wanted him to.

She smiled when she felt hands wrap around her waist from behind, and she closed her eyes when she felt his lips nuzzle the side of her neck.

"Mmm, Bounty and Brooke," Dean whispered against her skin. "My favorite combination."

She chuckled, turning around in his arms. "It's Snuggle, Martha Stewart," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Shows how much you know."

He smirked. "Whatever. It still smells fantastic."

Brooke chuckled, lifting her head to kiss him softly. She sighed against him, relishing the feel of his skin against hers. It had been so long…

"I forgot how soft you were," he murmured softly, nuzzling her cheek with the tip of his nose. He trailed his hands down her sides, pulling her closer. He sighed when her hands slid up his chest. "Do you have any idea what you do to me, Davis?"

She shrugged, looking up at him. "I have a pretty good idea," she said suggestively, pressing up against him. She grinned when he muffled a groan. "Still got it."

"Baby, you've always had it," he said, taking her lips in his again. He pushed her back against the dryer and leaned into her, sighing when her arms wrapped around his back. He groaned, pulling back. "As much as I might love to continue this, Bobby thinks he might have something," he said, looking down at her. Her lips were swollen and her eyes were glassy and he groaned again. "Damn you, Bobby."

Brooke laughed, patting his chest. "Down boy," she said, straightening up and running a hand through her hair. "It's probably for the best, anyway." She went to move around him, but his arm on her shoulder stopped him.

"Wait, wait, what does that mean? 'It's for the best?'" he asked. She shrugged, shaking her head. "Hey, Brooke, don't brush this off, okay? Talk to me. What's up?"

She sighed, shrugging again. "Reality, Dean," she said, looking at him.

"Reality?"

"Yes, reality, meaning realizing that this is temporary. This…euphoria. All the smiles and the laughs and the…everything that I've missed about you…it's all going to fade as soon as this is all done. I think we're both smart enough to know that you can't just give it up, Dean."

Dean sighed, running a hand down his face. "Brooke, I don't know how else to get you to get it," he said, taking a hold of her shoulders and leaning down until he was eye level with her. "The reality of this whole situation, Brooke…is that I am insanely in love with you. Alright? There's no two ways about it. My life these last four years have been hell. Plain and simple. And I'm going to be damned if I give you up again. We'll find a way, Brooke, okay? Whether it kills me or not, we're going to find a way to make this work."

Brooke nodded, closing her eyes against the tears that were threatening to fall, and leaned into his touch. "Okay," she whispered, taking his hand. She opened her eyes, staring into his own, and nodded again. "Okay."

* * *

"There aren't a lot of demons that go after children specifically," Bobby said quietly as they all gathered around the kitchen table. "At least, not in the way this one does."

"What do you mean?" Brooke asked, folding her hands on the tabletop.

"The way this thing works…I don't think it's killing the kids. It seems like its…collecting them."

Haley let out a shaky breath. "Collecting?"

Sam nodded. "There's all kinds of lore about children and demons," he said softly, trying to put the worried mother at ease. But even now her gaze was traveling to her son as he sat in front of the television, and he knew that nothing could ease her fear. "There are demons that take them to kill them, but they always leave behind traces. Blood, bodies…" The color drained from Haley's face, and he stopped, clearing his throat. "Anyway…they always leave behind something. Some kind of signature. That's not the case here."

"There are stories of some demons that collect children to create an army," Dean continued, leaning against counter with his arms crossed over his chest. "Breed them to become meat suits for future demons. Take them when they're young enough, you can get a kid to forget just about everything over time. They're young, scared….they'll do anything."

"Like Stockholm Syndrome," Haley added softly.

Dean frowned. "Huh?"

"Something like that," Bobby said, rolling his eyes. "That theory seems to fit more in this situation."

Nathan nodded, rubbing Haley's shoulder. "So…the missing kids? There's a chance they're still alive?"

Bobby nodded. "A good one, I think. If we can just figure out how the demon is choosing the kids or what the hell pulls him to them, I think we have a shot at catching this…SOB," he added, his eyes darting to the boy in the other room.

"Catching it?" Haley asked. "How?"

The three hunters exchanged a glance.

"No," Brooke said, sitting straight in her seat. "No way in hell."

"What?" Haley and Nathan asked in unison, looking between them all.

"Jamie," Brooke said.

"Now hang on," Bobby interceded when both parents started to protest.

"You are not using my son as bait!"

"Hales, give us a second," Dean said, taking a step towards the table. Brooke turned to glare at him and he shrunk against the anger in her eyes. "Listen, okay? We're not saying that's the plan."

"But you're hinting at it," Brooke accused.

"IF we can establish a pattern," Sam said, the voice of reason in any argument. "Maybe we can trap this thing. We can find out where it's keeping the kids, what its plan is, everything, before we banish it back to Hell." He sighed, looking Nathan and Haley. "Jamie might be our only shot."

"Haley, all three of us would be there," Dean said, coming to her side. "Jamie wouldn't be alone for a second, I swear to you. I would never let anything happen to him."

Haley looked up at him, clutching at her husband's hand. "Why Jamie?" she asked, terrified. "Why does he have to be in the middle of it? Can't we just…wait it out before it goes after another kid and just grab it then? Why does it have to be my son?"

Dean stared at her. "Because he's next, Haley." She gasped, turning to bury her head in Nathan's chest. "This thing…it's grabbing kids oldest to youngest. Only boys. Jamie's birthday? It falls next in the pattern."

* * *

"He's not going to be alone for a second, Haley," Sam said, handing her a steaming cup of coffee. "Between me, Bobby, and Dean, we've got him covered 24/7."

Haley nodded, wrapping her hands around the hot mug, and watched through the window as Dean stood with Jamie on the balcony, both of them leaning against the railing. "I know," she said softly. "Really, Sam, I know that you guys are going to keep him safe. It's just…I've nearly lost him twice before. Just the thought of…" She shook her head, closing her eyes against the images in her mind. Sighing, she turned to him. "It's just scary."

Sam nodded, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders. "I know," he said, unable to think of anything more reassuring, and turned to look out the window with her.

* * *

"Momma says you're kind of like a superhero," Jamie said, sipping his hot chocolate as he swung his legs on the deck chair.

Dean smirked, looking at him. "A superhero, huh?"

The boy nodded, licking his lips. "She says you save people. And that's why you and Sam came to Tree Hill. To save the kids at my school."

Dean nodded, staring off at the horizon. "Do you understand what's happening with those kids, Jamie?" he asked after a minute, sitting down next to him on the arm of the chair.

"Daddy and Momma think I don't, but I know that something bad happened to them," he said, staring down into his cup. "That's why they won't let me go back to school. Because they're afraid I'll go missing too."

Dean nodded, amazed at how smart the kid actually was.

"Are you going to find them, Uncle Dean?"

He looked down, and couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face at the sight of the blonde haired mini-Lucas and his hot chocolate mustache. "You need a shave there, kid," he joked, laughing when Jamie glared at him and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He sighed, nodding slightly. "I'm going to try, Jamie. That's kind of why I wanted to talk to you alone." He crouched down in front of him until they were at face level. "Sam and me…we kind of need your help."

"You do?"

"You bet," he said, nodding. "See, we need to catch the bad guy. But to do that, we have to set a trap."

Jamie frowned. "Like how the Coyote sets a trap for the Road Runner?"

Dean grinned. "Yeah, kind of like that. Except, our traps always work. Sam and I never go crashing into a wall or anything like that." Jamie laughed, and he smiled again. "You know…when you wear that cape, you're pretty much a superhero yourself."

Jamie nodded.

"And you know that with great power comes great responsibility, right?"

He nodded again, rolling his eyes, and Dean knew he took the superhero speech a step too far.

"We can't catch this bad guy without you, Jamie," he said seriously. "We could try…but another kid--another friend of yours--could go missing too.

"Your mom and dad, they get it. They don't like it, and they sure as hell are pretty pissed at me right now, but they get it. And I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want to, buddy. If you're too scared or you don't want to do this, all you have to do is say so. I won't get mad, and neither will anyone else. But we could really use your help, JimJam.

"I'll be right there the whole time. Nothing bad will happen to you, I swear."

Jamie looked up at him with his big blue eyes. "You'll be right there?"

He nodded. "Promise."

"Aunt Brooke, too?" When Dean frowned, Jamie shrugged. "Aunt Brooke's pretty scary sometimes."

He laughed, nodding. "That she is, huh?" He shrugged. "Jamie, I doubt even I could keep your Aunt Brooke away from this whole thing when you're concerned."

"What about Momma and Daddy?"

"Well, they'll be there, too, just not as close. We have to make the bad guy think he's alone. They'll be in their room, with Sam or Bobby. They'll be safe too."

"And you'll protect Aunt Brooke."

He said it as a fact rather than a question, and Dean looked into his eyes as he nodded.

"Then I'll help," the boy said, standing up. "I want to help my friends. I want to be brave like you and help them."

Dean stared at him, choking back the unexpected pride he felt welling up in his chest, and nodded. "Jamie…you are so much braver than me," he whispered softly, reaching out and pulling the boy into a tight hug. He felt his small arms hug him back, and he couldn't help but smile. "Believe me when I say that, kid."

Jamie nodded against his shoulder. "I know," he said, in a tone that sounded far more like Brooke than he ever would have imagined.

He laughed, pulling away and ruffling his hair. "Whatever, kid. You're still short."

Jamie scoffed, looking up at him. "I'm five, what's your excuse?"

Brooke's laugh from behind him made him turn, and he smiled when he saw her step onto the balcony. Jamie grinned and launched himself at her, and she caught him easily, laughing as she tickled his sides and enveloped him in a hug.

Dean stood there, watching as the girl he loved shared that moment with the kid he would gladly trade his life for, and knew then more than ever that he would win this fight.

He had to.

* * *

**Updated! Woot woot!**

**So…the plot thickens…mwahaha!**

**What's in store for our brave heroes in the chapters to come? Review, and perhaps I'll let you know.**

**Just kidding!!! Of course I'll let you know! But not until the next chapter, which I'm busily writing as you are reading this. So, let me know what you thought of the newest one, and I promise to have another upload soon!**

**You guys are AMAZING!!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Second Chances**

**A.N. Reviews made me smile! You guys are awesome! So, I'm thinking there's only about four or five more chapters to this story. I mean, I've got the whole story line mapped out in my overcrowded brain, and I'm realizing that it's drawing to a close. Which makes me sad.**

**So, anywho…here's the next update! Let me know what you think!**

* * *

"So, you knew about Brooke?"

Bobby looked up from his loading his shotgun, raising his eyebrows as Sam stared at him. "Yep."

Sam frowned. "When did you meet her?"

Bobby shrugged, setting the gun across his legs as he scratched at his bearded chin. "About…four months after Dean made a damn fool of himself in front of her. Your old man wouldn't stop going on and on about some brunette that had your brother in a fit. I had to come and see her for myself." He smiled. "If you didn't notice already, she's pretty hard to resist."

Sam laughed, nodded. "Yeah."

"What's bothering you, boy?"

He looked up, shrugging. "Just wondering…I keep thinking about what it would have been like if I'd answered one phone call from Dean. I mean, I could have met Brooke long before now. Maybe Dean and I wouldn't have been full-time hunters. Jessica might still be alive. And dad…"

Bobby nodded slowly, meeting his saddened gaze. "That's an awful lot of 'maybes' and 'ifs,' Sam," he said. "There's no telling that anything would be different if you had talked to Dean earlier. Things happen for a reason. The way things played out…" He shrugged. "Who the hell knows, Sam. But it is what it is."

Sam nodded, unsheathing the dagger he held in his hand, and stared at his reflection in its blade.

He couldn't help but wonder. Since he had driven into town with Dean and met these people that knew their secret--who were perfectly fine with it--and accepted his brother like a family member…he had to wonder if having a normal life, with a normal relationship and normal friends, wasn't so farfetched as he'd always believed.

* * *

"Are we really just supposed to lie here?"

Nathan looked over at his wife as she whispered in the darkness. Haley was staring up at the ceiling, her normally serene face troubled with worry.

"They know what they're doing, Hales," he whispered back, reaching over and taking her hand in his. Her fingers clutched at his desperately, and he closed his eyes, finally acknowledging just how frightened he really was. "He's going to be okay."

Haley sighed, and he felt the pillow shifting with her nod. "Do you think Brooke will be okay?" She looked over at him. "He loves her still…but I'm so scared that it's not enough to make him stay, Nathan. And I'm not sure she can handle him leaving again."

He sighed, nodded. "Yeah," he agreed softly, his eyes searching the darkness around him. His gaze slid the bedroom door where he knew Sam and Bobby waited in the hall, armed for any threat that may cross their path. "She's tough, though."

"Not when it comes to Dean," his wife said at his side, and he merely stayed silent, knowing that he couldn't deny that fact.

* * *

His quiet snickering jarred her from her semi-conscious state. She shook her head, forcing her eyes to stay open on the cracked closet door.

He snickered again, and she looked over at him, raising her eyebrows.

"It's been seven minutes," Dean whispered to her.

She frowned, shaking her head.

"We're in a closet."

Brooke rolled her eyes, unable to stop the smile that crept across her face. "Only you would make that connection in a situation like this."

He chuckled at her side, his long legs stretched out in front of him, shotgun resting across his knees. He sighed and leaning his head back against the wall, keeping his eyes trained on Jamie's sleeping form. He peeked at Brooke from the corner of his eye and brushed her hair off her shoulder with his hand. He smiled when she leaned into his touch, sighing. "You know, when this is all done, we should go somewhere. Just get away." He looked at her. "Remember how we always talked about taking that vacation? Away from cellphones and hunts and family. Just you and me…a couple daiquiris and a locked bedroom door with a view to die for." He shrugged, smiling. "We should do that."

"Do you promise not to wear a Speedo?" she quipped, looking at him with her eyebrow arched.

Dean chuckled. "Only if you promise a night of skinny dipping."

Brooke laughed, rolling her eyes at him and his inappropriate sense of humor, realizing just how much she missed them both. She felt his fingers gently tracing patterns on her bare shoulder, and she sighed as she settled back into the corner, fixing her eyes on the sleeping form of her godson.

They'd fallen back into their routine so easily. She had to wonder if it really was that easy. Could they just pick up where they'd left off? She'd forgiven him, that much was clear. She knew now that he had only left to protect her. Sure, it pissed her off that he hadn't been honest with her, but she could understand. She loved him right then, just as much as she had four years ago.

But were they possible? Were they able to just continue on? She wanted with all of heart to say yes. They could start over, go on with how their life was supposed to have been if he'd never left. But she couldn't fight that feeling in the pit of her stomach that she'd been experiencing since waking up next to him. She knew Dean couldn't ever completely give up hunting. It was in his blood. Did she think she could just sit around while he was away, glancing at the phone every five seconds, wondering if he was safe?

Things were different now. John was gone. He was hunting with Sam now, yes, but Dean won't let his little brother hunt solo. And she didn't know Sam well enough to think whether or not he'd give up the hunting lifestyle and settle for small-town life. He was a Winchester, after all. They were self-sacrificers. That's what John had told her once. He himself had sacrificed everything for the hunt. His friends, his home, his life. And, to his regret, he feared that he'd instilled those morals on his boys. And he'd apologized to her. He'd said he was sorry if it ever came to that with her and Dean. She'd merely laughed, pressing a kiss to his stubbled cheek, and said she appreciated it, but she and Dean were in it for the long haul.

She probably should have known back then. John Winchester always seemed to know what would happen where Dean was concerned. In her mind, she realized that he had tried preparing her for it. For the heartbreak, the despair. She hadn't wanted her to get too deep, just in case it ever came down to Dean leaving. He had been trying to protect her.

_Like father, like son_, she thought with a sad smile.

"Hey," Dean said softly, his fingers trailing a path down her arm. "What's on your mind?"

She looked at him, steeling her expression against the onslaught of emotion that was threatening to reveal her true thoughts. "Just worried about Jamie," she lied, shrugging.

Dean nodded, tightening his grip on his shotgun. "Don't be," he said. He smiled at her in reassurance, and she opened her mouth to speak, but the sound of a scream reverberated through the house, effectively cutting her off as they both jumped to their feet.

"That's Haley," Brooke said, shouldering open the door and racing to Jamie's side as the boy bolted awake.

"Dean!!" Sam yelled over the sound of a door being kicked in.

"Stay with Jamie," Dean ordered, cocking the shot gun as he raced out of the room, glancing back once to see Brooke scooping the terrified boy into her arms. He raced down the hall, skidding to a stop when he saw Bobby fly out of Nathan and Haley's room, slamming into the opposite wall with a grunt. He cursed under his breath as he raced over to him. "You alright?"

Bobby struggled to sit up, groping for his discarded weapon. "I'm fine! Get your ass in there!"

Dean didn't need to be told twice and he raced into the open doorway, his eyes taking in the scene as his brother wrestled with a man twice his size in the middle of the room. Haley was crouching in the corner, Nathan in front of her with his arms spread wide protectively. Blood was trailing down his face from a cut on his forehead, and his eyes watched in wariness at he scuffle that was happening before him.

The window to their bedroom was smashed open, the paint from the Devil's Trap on the floor smeared with the rain that had flowed through the shattered glass.

Sam's scream of pain snapped him out his examination of the room and he turned just in time to see Sam smashing through the door to the master bathroom. The demon whirled around the snarl at him, the blacks of his eyes nearly taking up his whole face. Dean glared at it, raising the shot gun and taking aim. The demon raised his arm, and the gun went flying from his grasp. He jumped slightly, reaching into the waistband of his jeans to grab the knife he had there. But before he could wrap his fingers around the hilt, he was lifted off his feet, an iron-clad grip tight on his throat as he stared down into the man's dark eyes.

The thing smirked up at him, tightening his grip ever so slightly. "You can't stop me, Winchester," it snarled, pulling Dean close to look him dead in the eyes. "This is one fight you won't win."

Suddenly, he dropped Dean, curling in on himself and howling in pain.

Dean gasped for breath, coughing, and looked up to see Nathan holding a clear plastic bottle. _Holy water._

He lifted the bottle again, pointing it straight at the demon, but before he could squeeze it he was thrown backwards, crashing into the wall.

"Nathan!" Haley screamed, racing over to the unconscious form of her husband.

"Haley, get back," Dean yelled, scrambling for his shot gun as he saw Sam struggle to his feet, holding a hand to his head as he gritted his teeth against the pain and stepped over the shattered door. In unison, the two brothers raised their guns, taking aim and pulled the trigger.

A chorus of shot rang out in the room, and they watched in shock as the demon lunged forward, narrowly missing both shells of rock salt. It took off at high speed towards the door, flinging Dean aside like a rag doll and leaping over Bobby sprawled out form.

Dean shook his head to clear his vision, pulling himself to his feet as Sam raced down the hall after it--straight for Jamie's room. He looked back at Nathan and Haley, watching as fear clouded the brunette's face as she battled between staying with her husband and running to her son. "Stay here," he commanded, waiting until she nodded reluctantly before racing after his brother. He ran down the hall, pumping his legs as fast as they would go, keeping his gaze riveted on his brother's racing form. He yelled out a curse when the demon reached Jamie's room, and the door flew shut behind him. He watched as Sam threw his body against it before falling back to the ground. "Brooke!" he yelled, helping his brother to his feet as he smashed his fist against the door. "Don't you touch them, you son of a bitch!!"

* * *

Brooke whirled around when the door slammed shut, jumping to her feet when she caught sight of the stranger who now stood in front of it. She shoved Jamie behind her into a corner when she spotted his black eyes, and she gritted her teeth as she straightened to her full height, clenching the pistol Dean had given her tightly in her hands. She pointed it in front of her, amazed at how steady her arms were, and watched as the demon tilted his head as he gazed at her.

"Stay back," she warned, stepping closer to Jamie when she heard his terrified whimper.

The man--no, not a man. Not anymore. The THING merely smirked at her, revealing a row of perfect white teeth as it took a small step towards her. "Stay back?" it quoted, his voice deep and strong.

The banging on the door grew louder and more fierce, and Brooke could hear Bobby's voice mixing in with those of Dean and Sam. She let her eyes drift the shaking frame before they settled on the demon again and she squared her shoulders. "You're NOT…getting him."

An amused chuckle bubbled from between its lips. "You think so, pretty girl?" it asked, taking another step towards her. Brooke frowned at the use of the nickname. "Oh, I know all about you, Brooke Davis. You and your little love affair with Winchester. You're the talk of the Underworld. If you only knew the kind of potential you held…" He took another step, and Brooke pulled back the hammer of the gun. He chuckled again. "You're feisty. I like that."

"Take another step, and I swear to God I will blow you away," she said through gritted teeth, glaring as he smirked at her with one foot off the ground. She scoffed at his expression. "You think you know me? You and your little demon horde? You know NOTHING. I've taken out your kind before, and while I might be a little rusty, I'm pretty sure I can do it again. So don't. Test. Me."

"Oh, trust me, Brooke," he said softly, his lips turning up in a cruel, patronizing smile. "Your test is just beginning." He lunged at her, and the shot from the pistol rang through the air even as Jamie screamed, and Brooke yelped when he dodged it with ease. He grabbed her wrists, wrestling her for the gun, and she felt her grip on the handle slipping. She raised her knee, slamming it into the demon's stomach and was rewarded with a groan. She yanked her arms out of his grasp and raised her knee again, catching him on his chin. He flew back onto the floor and she took the small reprieve to cock the hammer again and level it at the demon's chest. Before she could pull the trigger, he flipped to his feet, throwing out his arm and catching Brooke across the face.

She felt herself flying across the room and heard her bones crack as she fell sideways into the wall. Black dots danced in front of her eyes as she struggled to pull herself up, Jamie's cries ringing in her ears. "Stay away from him," she rasped out, head spinning as she crawled to her knees, cradling her arm against her chest. "Stay away from him!"

A hand grabbed her neck in a death grip and her head smashed into the wall. The man's smiling face danced in her vision as she fought to keep her heavy lids open. She heard Jamie crying her name as everything went black, the demon's inhuman laughter following her as she fell into unconsciousness.

* * *

Jamie's scream sent a terrified chill down Dean's spin and he threw all his body weight into the door, groaning when he felt his shoulder buckle under the pressure. "Stand back," he demanded, waving Sam and Bobby away as he backed up. He saw Sam nod from the corner of his eye as he took his place next to him, and as one they rushed the door, using all of their strength to launch themselves against it. It split in two, and they staggered into the room, weapons at the ready to fire when needed.

Dean's eyes searched the room as the color drained from his face, and he shook his head. "No, no, no," he yelled, racing into the room and searching its every corner.

"Where are they?" Bobby asked quietly to himself as he turned in a slow circle in the middle of the room.

"They're not here," Dean was repeating to himself as he paced the room, his knuckles white as he gripped his shot gun. "They're not here."

"Dean," Sam said, walking towards him with an outstretched hand. "Dean…listen to me."

His older brother turned on him, his face a mixture of rage, fear and denial. "They're not here, Sam! It took them! It took both of them!"

Sam's face nearly crumbled at the tone of his brother's voice and he nodded, reaching out to him. "Dean…"

Dean shrugged off his hand, spinning on his heel and racing from the room. His footsteps thundered on the stairs and the sound of the front door crashing into the wall echoed through the house. He could hear his brother shouting for Brooke and Jamie from outside, and Sam had to close his eyes against the tears he knew were coming.

They'd failed.

And he had no idea in Hell what to do now.

* * *

**Dun-dun-dun!!!**

**Sorry for the cliffy….actually…I'm really not. Well…kind of. Or not. Can't really make up my mind at the moment. Mwahaha!**

**Let me know what y'all think! Will they find them? Or have our heroes really failed this time? **

**Until the next update….**


	11. Chapter 11

**Second Chance**

**A.N. Sorry for the delay in the update, guys. Sister had a baby, grandpa broke a rib…it's been a mess. So, I diligently paid extra care to this chapter to make up for my absence, so I hope it's to your liking.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Kripke and Schwann own it all. I just like using them as puppets in my own Masterpiece Theatre.**

* * *

"Brooke!"

The sound of her name being called roused her from unconsciousness, and Brooke shifted from her prone position, wincing at the pain that shot through her head with each movement. Her wrist felt like it was on fire pinned underneath her body, and she groaned as she slowly attempted to pull it out from under her.

"Aunt Brooke!"

_Jamie._

Brooke gritted her teeth against the pain that assaulted her body when she opened her eyes and rolled onto her side. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the dim lighting, and she took the time to push herself into a sitting position. Clutching her wrist to her chest, she squinted into her surroundings, and nearly let out a sigh of relief.

Jamie was crouching down in front of her, his face streaked with dirt and tears. His pajamas were slightly ripped around the knees and elbows, and his bright blue eyes were looking at her in worry and fear. Behind him were the terrified children who had gone missing over the last few weeks.

Every one of them.

They looked at her in fear, each of them seeming to scoot slightly closer to her when they saw that she was awake and alert. They were filthy--covered in dirt and grime. Some had various cuts and bruises over their exposed skin, and their expressions of relief and fear were mixed with relief.

"Aunt Brooke, are you okay?"

Brooke looked over at Jamie, forcing a smile onto her face. "I'm fine, Jamie," she said softly, glancing at her surrounding to ensure they were alone. "Are you okay? You and the others?"

Jamie nodded, though his lip trembled slightly, and Brooke silently presided her godson for his bravery.

"Are you here to save us?" one of the children behind Jamie asked in a near-whisper.

Brooke scooted closer to them, wincing slightly, and nodded. "I'm going to try," she said reassuringly. "I promise, okay? I'm going to make sure that you guys get home. Alright?" They all nodded, relief flooding their features, and she silently prayed she could keep her word. "Okay. Do you know where we are? Where he took us?"

"He's a monster," one of the boys whispered quietly, his blue eyes wide in fear.

Brooke met his gaze, biting her lip as she nodded. "Yeah, he is," she said softly, shifting her feet underneath her. "But I promise you…" She looked around at each of their faces. "All of you…I will NOT…let him touch you. Okay? I promise that I'm going to get you out of here."

"Uncle Dean will come," Jamie said softly, almost under his breath, as he leaned in close to her. "He fights monsters. He'll save us."

Brooke turned her face away from her confident godson so he wouldn't see the worry of her expression.

How would Dean know where they were?

* * *

"How did it go wrong? I mean…you said it would be easy. You said it would work."

Dean had to close his eyes at the accusations he heard in Haley's voice. He had failed. He knew that. But when he heard it in his friend's voice, it only cut that much deeper.

"He knew about it all, Haley," Bobby said, shifting the icepack on the back of his head. "Somehow he knew we were lying in wait."

Haley leaned forward from her place on the couch, elbows on her knees, her tear-streaked face looked up at him. "How?"

"Because somehow he knew Sam and I were here, Haley," Dean finally said, glancing over from his place against the wall. "He knew we were here, and he knew that we'd set a trap like that. He knew distracting us with you would leave Jamie open."

"But he didn't count on Brooke," Peyton said, walking over to Nathan from the kitchen with a glass of water and a bottle of Advil. "That's why he took her, right? She fought him, and he was unprepared."

"We don't know that," Dean said.

Peyton's blue eyes narrowed at him. "Like hell we don't. He could have just killed her. Brooke fought like hell, and he knew he wouldn't be able to get out of there without everyone else ganging up on him."

Dean sighed, running a hand down his ragged face. "Then why not kill her, Peyton? If he was so worried about not getting out--"

"Don't take that tone with me, Winchester," Peyton snapped, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction. "This is all your damn fault. You brought this demon crap and hunting and everything else into our lives. It was you, alright? So don't take that higher-than-thou attitude with me."

Dean glared at her fiercely, rising from his leaning position against the wall, and took a step towards her. He was intercepted quickly by Sam, who resting a strong hand against his shoulder.

"Dude, calm down."

"Calm down," Dean repeated, nearly spitting the phrase. "Right, sure, why not? You heard her, Sammy. This is all my fault, right, Peyton? If I had just stayed gone, Brooke and Jamie would both be alright? They'd both be here, safe and sound, and you all would be your joyous little group family again, huh? Is that what you're saying?"

Peyton merely crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him.

"You've never been able to get off your high horse when it comes to me, Peyton. Not since day one. I've never been good enough for, or I've never taken good enough care of her. There's always been something that was used as a mark against me when it came to you. Brooke was always just better off when I wasn't around, right?" He glared at her. "What, now you don't have any witty comeback, Blondie? God dammit, I left to protect her!"

"Yeah. And look how well that plan worked out," she replied.

A sudden crash made everyone jump, and they turned to see Haley standing next to the couch now, the glass of water that had been brought for Nathan now laying in a pile of broken glass shards on the floor by the wall. Her brown eyes were alight with fury as she glared at them both, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "Would you both just shut the hell up?" she screamed. "For God's sake, my son and my best friend are missing! And all the two of you can do is argue and bitch and moan about the past. Do either of you really think it was a secret that you hated each other? News flash: it wasn't! But you both were civil because you loved Brooke. And being the two most important people in her life, I can't believe that right now, when she needs you most, you're ripping each other's throats out! Now my son--MY son--is gone. And I am disgusted by the sight of you. Both of you." She turned to Dean, her angry gaze crumbling at the shame and sorrow she saw on his face, and she let out a broken sob. "Get him back, Dean…There has to be a way. A spell, an exorcism, some way to track it…you HAVE to bring him home."

Sam's head shot up as she spoke, his eyes going wide. "Tracking," he murmured, looking up when everyone glanced at him. "Was Brooke's cell phone in the closet?"

"No," Peyton said, shifting her feet. "Brooke always kept it on her. She lost it once and was really paranoid about doing it again."

"What are you thinking, boy?" Bobby asked, frowning as he looked up at him.

Sam raced over to the laptop that sat on the kitchen table. "GPS."

* * *

They were in some kind of cellar.

Brooke ran a hand through her hair as she leaned against one of the cement walls, closing her eyes against the panic that was welling in her chest.

There was no way out.

The wooden stairway across the room had led up to a door, but no matter how much body weight she threw against it, it wouldn't budge. The only two windows near the ceiling had been boarded over from the outside, leaving no chance for escape.

How the hell was she going to get these kids out of here before the demon came back?

She had checked her cell phone over an hour ago, and glancing at it again, she saw that there was still no signal. No chance of a text or phone call to help her out.

She winced against the pain in her wrist, gently rubbing the old rags she'd found in the corner to wrap it up with. The thought of how sanitary the dirty rag was had been pushed to the side of her mind. She knew that she had to be able to stand her own against that thing when it reared its head again. But as the fire burned its way up her arm and to her shoulder, she had to wonder just how well she'd do against him. She had no weapon. No holy water.

_No chance._

* * *

"No, I can swear that I left in the restaurant, but I went back and it was gone."

Haley paced the living room as she watched Peyton talk into the phone, Sam at her side, eyes on the laptop screen as they tried to persuade the phone company to activate the GPS in Brooke's phone.

"What if he dumped it?" she asked quietly, looking at Dean from his place across the room.

"We have to take that risk, Hales," he said, meeting her worried gaze with his own. "Look…I'm sorry--"

She held up a hand, cutting him off. "Please don't apologize to me right now, Dean," she said. "Just bring him home first, okay? Bring him home, and then we'll talk."

"Alright…alright, thank you so much," Peyton said, striding over to stand next to Sam as she shut off the phone. "It's on."

Sam's fingers flew across the keys as everyone else in the house raced to his side, their eyes glued to the loading screen. He pointed to the blinking spot in the center of the screen. "Right there. Where is that?"

Nathan leaned down, staring intently at the screen. "Clarkson and Spherion…that's the old mill." He straightened, glancing at the three hunters. "It's been abandoned for the last two years. There was some kind of accident or something and they shut it down."

"Let's go then," Dean said, shrugging into his leather jacket and picking up his shot gun.

"Hold on now," Bobby cautioned, motioning to Dean to put down the gun. "We can't go racing in there half-cocked. He caught us off guard once, Dean. We need to have a plan."

"Like hell, Bobby," Dean shouted, pointing towards the door. "We know where they are, we've got to get over there before it takes off or starts killing." He tried to ignore the way Haley and Nathan flinched at his mention of the killings, and kept his gaze on the older man. "Bobby…I can't lose her again. I can't lose either of them."

Bobby's grizzled face softened at the despair in his surrogate son's voice, and he nodded slowly, meeting his gaze. "Alright. I understand, Dean. But we can't just race in there, gun a-blazing. We need to come up with some kind of strategy. The three of us--"

"Six," Peyton chimed in, crossing her arms.

"No way," Dean said, shaking his head.

"Look, there's now way we're letting you guys go by yourselves," the blonde said, laughing. "This is Brooke and Jamie we're talking about here. We're in this together, Dean, whether you like it or not."

"Where you go, we go," Nathan added, wrapping his arm around Haley's waist as she nodded.

"Six against one are better odds, Dean," Haley said quietly, jutting out her chin defiantly when he opened his mouth to argue. "Don't argue, alright? You've never won before, you're not going to win now, so why waste the time and energy? It's no use."

Sam looked over at him, fighting against the smile that wanted to spread across his face at the tone of Haley's voice. "They've got a point, Dean," he said, shrugging. "This thing is smart. I'm not betting it would expect ALL of us to come in fighting."

Dean glared at his younger brother, but one more glance at Haley James Scott's stubborn face and the looks of determination on Nathan and Peyton's, he knew that it was a lost cause to argue. "Fine," he said, looking at the three of them. "None of you moves an inch without one of us, you got it?" They nodded, and he met Haley's eyes. He saw the fear and panic clouding them, but also saw that the determination and the courage far overshadowed the other emotion warring within them. And he knew there was no going back now.

* * *

The sound of the lock turning in the door made the children jump, and Brooke scooted closer to them at the sound of it opening. "It's okay, guys, it's okay," she said to them softly, positioning herself in front of them as she heard the heavy footsteps on the stairs. She swallowed the fear in her throat when the demon rounded the staircase, his black eyes glistening against the light streaming from the lone bulb on the ceiling. A patronizing smile was his face as he caught sight of her blocking the children, and he chuckled deep in his chest. "Sleeping Beauty awakens,' he said, taking a step towards her.

Brooke gritted her teeth as she pushed herself to her feet, her eyes never leaving the dark orbs in the face of the so-called human in front of her. She kept her hands at her sides, ignoring the searing pain that spread through her whole arm, and straightened her shoulders.

"So brave," he commented, walking closer until he stood two feet away from her. She could see the whites of his teeth flash in the light as he grinned. "I find myself liking you more and more, Miss Davis."

She glared at him. "Feelings not mutual," she said through gritted teeth.

His laughter echoed off the walls, and he shook his head in amusement. He looked at her, holding his arms out at his sides. "Do you like my home? My little brood?" he asked, glancing at the huddle of children behind her. They whimpered and clutched to each other when his eyes found them, and he grinned again.

"Is that your big, master plan?" she asked, taking a step back towards the children so they would quiet. The last thing she wanted was for the bastard to think he was still in control. "Brainwash them with fear and terror until they hang on to you every word?" When the demon just smiled more, she scoffed, shaking her head. "Do you really think that's going to work?"

"Fear changes people," he stated simply, grinning.

"Why them?" she asked, taking a defiant step towards him. "Why take these children?"

He shrugged, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. "Cream of the crop. When you're creating an army, the last thing you want are runts, Brooke. They just slow you down. You need the best. The top dogs. The ones with the most potential."

She arched her eyebrow as he spoke. "Is that why you took me?"

He laughed again, darkly, and met her gaze. "Oh, Brooke. You're potential far overpowers any that they might possess. When I finally met you--finally took you in--I knew you were the one."

Brooke frowned. "The one what?"

His smile slowly crept further across his face, and he took a long stride towards her. "Every child needs a mother."

Brooke's eyes widened at his revelation, and the repulse she felt turning in her stomach nearly did her in.

"Think about it, Brooke," the demon continued, motioning with his hands to their surroundings. "Don't you see? You're fighting for the wrong side. You can't actually believe that you'll win this battle. That you hunters and your toys and comrades can overpower us."

Brooke gritted her teeth, nodding. "Oh, I believe it," she said fiercely, steeling her shoulders against his gaze. "I believe it, because of them." She looked behind her, gesturing dramatically at the children cowering at her back. "I believe it because they are the reason we will. They have been trapped here under you, terrified and starving and tired…and yet they haven't given in to you. Don't YOU see? WE are stronger than any of you know. WE can survive ANYTHING that you bastards throw at us. And whenever one of us falls, more of us will rise up to meet you. And it's YOU who are going to lose. And if you don't see that, then I guess you're a dumber jack ass than I thought."

She gasped as she was suddenly lifted off her feet, and her hands reached up to claw that the iron grip that tightened around her throat. She stared down at the emotionless black eyes that glared at her, and she heard the children behind them scream and scatter backwards.

"Aunt Brooke!" she heard Jamie yell at her side, and she panicked, eyes darting to shoot him a warning glance.

"Jamie, no!" she rasped out, then gasped when the demon's fingers tightened around her windpipe.

"Yes, Jamie, no," he mocked through gritted teeth. "Wouldn't want you to miss me squeeze the life out of your brave, foolish aunt, now would we?" He pulled Brooke in close, meeting her eyes with his dark ones, and he sneered in her face. "In the end…you will lose, Brooke Davis. I only regret that you won't be there to see it happen."

Brooke closed her eyes, still clawing at the iron-clad grip crushing her throat, and said a silent prayer for the children she was about to break her promise to, and a silent goodbye to those she was leaving behind.

A crash from upstairs made the demon drop her suddenly, and she fell to the ground, coughing and gasping for air. She fell back slightly as Jamie launched himself into her arms, and she clutched him tightly to her chest, scooting them both backwards until she sat directly in front of the terrified children. She glared up at the monster before them, watching as he tilted his head to the side, listening for any other signs of an intruder. He chuckled suddenly, shaking his head at the ceiling.

"Oh, you humans," he murmured, smiling in amusement. "When will you ever learn?" He chuckled again, dropping his gaze to Brooke's, and he grinned. "We'll have to reschedule this for later, Sweet Cheeks. I've got a couple of idiotic hunters to take care of." He laughed, shooting her a quick wink, and suddenly raced of the stairs, latching the door behind him.

Brooke let out the terrified breath that she hadn't even realized she'd been holding, and let her gaze drift upwards to the ceiling. "Dean," she whispered, closing her eyes as she clutched Jamie even closer.

_God, please let us survive this…_

_

* * *

_

…_**.Another cliffhanger. I'm sorry! I couldn't help it!**_

_**Well…actually I could…but where's the fun in that?**_

_**I'm half-way done with the next chapter, so let me know what you think and I'll try to get it up as soon as I can!**_

_**Until next time, my dahlinks!!!**_


	12. Chapter 12

**Second Chances**

**A.N. My, my, my…as I'm uploading this chapter, I realize that this story is coming to a close. *sniff sniff* I'm thinking it's going to be wrapped up in the next chapter or two, and it almost breaks my heart to say so. But, let's not dwell on the ending--let's just enjoy the new update! As always, let me know what you guys think.**

* * *

The old mill on the corner of Clarkson and Spherion looked like it could have been the backdrop from a Wes Craven movie. The dilapidated building was perched in the far corner of the abandoned lot, to "No Trespassing" sign dangling from one nail on the chain link fence surrounding it. Every window and door had been boarded up, vulgar teenage graffiti marring the time-worn boards. No light peeked through cracks, giving insight to whether anyone was inside.

Dean slammed the trunk to the Impala shut, handing a worn shotgun into the outstretched hands of his brother, and turned at the sound of closing car doors behind him. Haley and Peyton were pulling two large duffel bags from the backseat of Brooke's Ford Explorer, and he couldn't help but feel a slight tinge of pride and relief that she had kept her "demon hunting kit" hidden in her car after all these years.

Nathan walked to his side and he nodded in greeting, reaching to the ground and handing him a shotgun. "You sure you can handle this, Nate?"

Nathan smirked, and in one quick movement cocked the shot gun and tipped in over his shoulder. "Give me some credit, Winchester," he said. "I might be rusty, but I think I can still handle it." He glanced at the mill, his face a neutral mask. "We're talking about my family here. So it wouldn't matter if I could or I couldn't. I'd still give it my best shot."

Dean nodded and looked over as the girls made it to their side.

"Jesus, can't they ever hide out at the Hyatt or something?" Haley asked, dropping the duffel to the ground and swiping at bang from out of her eyes.

"I think that would cancel out the whole evil thing, Hales," Peyton said, shifting the strap of her bag on her shoulder. She sighed, glancing at Dean but conveniently avoiding direct eye contact. "So, what's the plan?"

"The element of surprise," Bobby answered, checking the ammunition in his gun and glancing at the mill. "He's going to be expecting the three of us to come barging in. The three of you are what we're counting on."

Sam sat the shotgun on the trunk of the car. "The floor plans to the mill showed three floors. With it being abandoned for awhile now, any of the them could be where he's holed up."

"We'll each take a floor," Dean said, shifting the gun in his hands. "None of you are to go off on your own, got it? You stick with us. Hales, go with Bobby. Peyton--"

"I'll go with you," the blonde interrupted. All five sets of eyes turned to look at her and she shrugged. "Look, you might be a jackass, but you love Brooke just as much as I do. Which means you'll fight just as hard as I will to get to her. Where you go, I go." She rolled her eyes. "Besides, we've worked pretty well together before. Don't read too much into it."

Dean bit the inside of his lip to keep from saying the biting response on the tip of his tongue and nodded. "Fine, whatever. Just stay close and pay attention." She rolled her eyes again and he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Nathan, you're with Sam. We get in, we get them, we get out. Okay?"

"What about the demon?" Haley asked, hesitantly taking the gun Bobby handed to her and testing its weight in her hands.

The image of sweet, motherly Haley James Scott standing on a side street in the middle of the night, a gun in her hands, her face a mixture of terror, rage, and determination, was one that would haunt Dean until the day he died.

He hated that he had brought this into their lives.

"Leave the dirt bag to us. Don't try going after him on your own."

Haley's brown eyes met his, and she nodded, her lips setting themselves into a determined thin line, her grasp tightening on the gun as she dropped her arms to her side. "Okay."

"Alright, you've got to be on your guard when we go in there. Keep every sense open and alert. Trust your instincts. You guys have been to hell in back in your lives, and I know that you've hunted before. But you CANNOT underestimate this demon. He's powerful and he's smart. And he's not going to give Brooke and those kids up without a fight. You stay alert, you stay alive. Understood?"

They all nodded at Bobby's lecture, and Dean watched as all three of them squared their shoulders, ready to face whatever awaited them behind those mill doors. He exchanged glances with his brother and with Bobby, and he nodded, clenching his jaw as he looked towards the mill.

"Alright…let's go."

* * *

The dust covered floorboards creaked with every step Haley took, and her eyes darted to every darkened corner in fear that the noise would bring out the beast lurking in the shadows. Her grip tightened on the handle of her gun, her knuckles stark white against its silvery tone.

She could feel her heart beating against her ribcage erratically. She was terrified, she'd admit it. But she was also determined: her son was here somewhere. Scared. Tired. But not alone.

That small fact was what kept her from having a complete breakdown.

"Haley."

She jumped, spinning on her heel and raising her gun, only to have it blocked by Bobby's meaty hand. She stared up into his grizzled face and sighed, bringing a hand up to her forehead. "Sorry," she whispered, lowering her weapon.

"You've got calm down, kiddo," Bobby said quietly, leaning down close to her so she could easily hear. "If you're skittish, you tend to make mistakes. And you CANNOT. Make. Mistakes." He saw the tears welling in her eyes and he reached out, laying a hand on her shoulder. "I know you're scared, Haley. But you need to take a second and calm down. Take a deep breath. I know it's been awhile, but this isn't your first hunt. You and Peyton followed Dean down to Belwood once, remember?"

Haley smirked slightly, nodding. The time Bobby was referring to had been almost a month after Dean and Brooke had moved in together. She and Peyton had still been in the dark when it came to Dean and his "profession," and had raised some eyebrows when Brooke announced he was leaving on a hunting trip with his father for the third time that month. Brooke had been nonchalant about the whole ordeal and, given her goo-goo eyes and love-struck manner when it came to the guy, they'd automatically thought affair and set out to expose him. Needless to say, they'd been way off base and stumbled onto a haunting that could have easily gone very, very wrong.

"Bobby, I was scared stiff," she said, shrugging.

"Yeah, at first," he said, nodding. "But then you got over your shock, saw the danger in the situation, and you stepped up. You followed Dean's lead and you survived. And kicked some demonic ass, according to Dean." He smiled when she smiled. "You followed your instincts. You pushed past your fear, and you got the job done. Now you need to do that now. Think about Jamie, Haley. You can do this."

Haley sighed, closing her eyes and taking several deep breathes, before looking up at him, nodding. "I can do it," she whispered softly, tightening her grip on her gun. "Thanks, Bobby."

Bobby smiled, patting her shoulder. "My pleasure, kid. Now come on. We're barely halfway through our floor."

He led the way further into the room, and Haley followed, glancing around. "Where do you think he is?"

"I don't know," he answered, his fingers resting on the trigger of his gun. "But he knows we're here."

* * *

"There has to be an easier way to do this," Nathan whispered, pointing his gun around the corner as he rounded it.

"Yeah? Like what?" Sam asked, his back pressed against the wall as he held his shotgun next to him.

Nathan sighed, running a hand through his hair as he glanced around the box filled room. "I don't know, man," he said. "A summoning spell, and tracking voo-doo something. I mean, it's got to be easier and faster than searching every damn inch of this place."

Sam looked over at him, seeing his fear and frustration, and he couldn't help the sympathy that laced his voice as he spoke. "Which is why we split up, Nathan. Look, you've got to understand that we're tying to keep Jamie and Brooke as safe as possible in this situation. If we tried to summon the demon or it got the slightest whiff that we were tracking it…it wouldn't be good. Okay? We have to play this safe."

"It knows we're here already, Sam," Nathan argued, pointing his gun into a dark corner before dropping it to his side again. "Are you even sure there's a 'safe' to be played? Bobby said it himself. The demon knows you're here. How do we know for sure that it doesn't know WE'RE here too? How do we know it didn't just disappear with the kids and Brooke?"

"We don't," Sam said, turning to face him with a slight glare. "We don't know. But that's a risk you have to take. I know you're scared for your son, and I know that you're furious that this whole thing is even happening. But right now, you need to focus that fear and anger on searching this place. Because until we know for sure, we have to assume that they are still here. Okay, there's no way the demon had enough time to relocate 8 children, plus one seriously pissed of fashion designer. So if they're here…we'll find them. So just…keep a clear head, and keep your eyes open." Nathan nodded, shouldering his shot gun again. "Okay. It looks like there's some empty workshops back here. You take the one on the left, I go right?"

Nathan frowned at him. "Dean said not to split up."

Sam smirked. "Clearly, you can handle your own. And, it's like you said. There's a hell of a lot of room to search."

Nathan nodded again, smiling slightly, and edged his way towards the left workshop, gun at the ready.

He would find his son. And he'd make sure that demon paid.

* * *

Peyton edged her way deeper into the basement of the mill, her shotgun tight in her grasp. She guessed she should have been a little freaked out about how easy it was to fall back into this routine--watching every movement from the corner of her eyes, listening for the slightest sound in the corners. She'd spent half of her senior year that way.

Even the fact that it was a demon that was her adversary now didn't freak her out much at all.

Her eyes caught sight of Dean's figure in the darkness, creeping slowly ahead of her, his steps silent against the cement floor. She could feel her moral conscience tapping at her brain, just like it always did when she let her anger speak for itself before she though it through. She stared at his leather jacketed back, his shoulders stiff and his head tilted for any signs of movement, and she closed her eyes as she cursed inwardly. "You got something wrong, you know."

Dean stopped his steps at the sound of her quiet voice and he glanced over his shoulder, seeing her blue eyes trained on his intently.

"Earlier. You said how I thought you never took good enough care of Brooke. You were wrong."

He frowned at her, taken aback by where this conversation was heading, because he'd always figured it'd be a cold day in hell when Peyton Sawyer apologized to him. "Peyton--"

"Look, this is really, really painful for me, Dean," she said, shifting her grip on her shotgun as she looked at him. "But you and I both know that this whole situation could turn out really bad, and while I'd be seriously pissed if you got me killed before I could finally marry Lucas, I'd also hate myself if I didn't clear the air with you."

Dean nodded hesitantly, turning more towards her even as he kept a weathered eye on their surroundings.

Peyton sighed, nodding. "You did take good care of her. Always. I mean, you had your jack ass moments when it came to her, but, then again, my record with Brooke isn't exactly spotless either. You always put her first. You always made sure she was okay--that she was warm enough or felt safe enough. You always managed to stop her tears before she got too hysterical." She smiled. "You know, when her sobs started to make her sound like a donkey and she couldn't form a coherent sentence?" His face broke into a smirk, and she shook her head. "You're not good enough for her. You're egotistical, and lazy, and at times you're dumber than a sack of hair."

"You know, Sawyer, if this is your idea of an apology, you're sure doing a bang up job of making me feel like crap."

"Look, what I'm trying to say is that even though you're a stubborn jackass and I despise you from the bottom of my heart…I've never doubted that you love Brooke. Or that you wouldn't do anything in your power to take care of her and keep her safe. You kind of proved that four years ago. And I'm sorry that I was a bitch earlier--"

"Just earlier?" Dean intercepted, raising an eyebrow at her.

She narrowed her eyes in annoyance, gritting her teeth. "My apology only reaches as far as an hour ago, Winchester. You're lucky you're getting that. The point is that I'm bothering to apologize at all, so I'd take what you can get and move on with it. I'm sorry that I let you believe I thought you didn't care about Brooke. Like I said earlier, you care about her just as much as I do. Maybe more, who knows. But it's the one aspect of you that I've never been able to hate. Okay?"

Dean could only look at the blonde before him for a long moment, unable to grasp at anything to say. He guessed he should have been relieved that the best friend of the girl he loved was willing to basically flog herself to ease the tension between them. He knew apologizing wasn't one of Peyton Sawyer's favorite things to do. But knowing the truth, that she'd always known he'd left only to protect Brooke, somehow made things better.

He nodded, gripping the shotgun in his hand tighter. "I still hate you, though," he added quietly, turning and making his way deeper through the basement.

"Oh, hell, you'd better believe it, Rocky," he heard her second behind him, and he couldn't help the slight smile that spread across his face.

* * *

Brooke had herded all the children into the farthest corner of the room, giving them strict instructions not to move until she said so. As she made her way up the stairs to the barricaded door, she glanced behind her, seeing their frightened gazes fixated on her, and she took a deep breath to calm the dread that was creeping up her chest. She grasped the steel doorknob with both hands, gritting her teeth as she turned it with all the strength she had. It rattled and squeaked, but wouldn't budge. She sighed, leaning her forehead against the door, tears of anger and fear welling in her eyes.

How were they going to get out of this?

The sound of rustling behind the door made her eyes snap open, and she pressed her ear against the wood, trying to decipher anything beyond it. She could hear quiet whispers, one deeper than the other, and her heart nearly leapt in her throat when she made out Peyton's voice. "Peyton?" she called out softly, listening as she voices quieted suddenly. "Peyton?"

The sound of footsteps hurried to the door, and she felt the door knob twist from the other side.

"Brooke?"

She bit back the sob that welled in her throat, and nearly threw herself against the door. "Dean?"

The sound of something heavy hitting the floor reached her ears, and she heard more shuffling before Dean's voice was heard again. "Step back, Brooke," he said, and she quickly turned and nearly jumped down the last few stairs as something heavy hit the oak door behind her. She turned back as the door splintered with another hit, and jumped when, on the third, it flew open, hitting the back wall with a bang, the doorknob twisted and mangled on the floor. Dean shoved his way through, his arm pushing the door as wide open as it would go, and the look of relief on his face when he spotted her brought a smile to her face.

She raced up the steps, meeting him halfway, and threw her arms around him as he grabbed her up in his. He crushed his lips onto hers, a kiss that was possessive and relieved at the same time, and he pushed her hair back from her face, staring into her eyes. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion that he tried desperately not to show.

She nodded, trying to fight back the tears that she knew were waiting to be shed.

"God, Brooke, you scared me to death," he said, crushing her to him again.

She gripped the back of his jacket tightly, her head craning over his shoulder at a slight movement behind him, and she sighed when she caught sight of her best friend.

"Peyton," she said, pulling away from Dean and being enveloped immediately by the blonde who came up next to them.

Peyton clenched her eyes shut as she hugged her friend, a relieved smile gracing her face. "I swear to God, Brooke Davis, you're going to be the death of me," she joked, smiling even wider when her friend laughed with her.

"Don't I know it," she replied, pulling away from her and turning around.

"Uncle Dean!" Jamie yelled, racing across the room and throwing himself into the hunter's outstretched arms. "You saved us, I knew you would!"

Dean clutched the boy close to him, holding on to him for dear life as he chuckled. "God, I'm glad to see you, kid," he said softly, ruffling his hair as he pulled back.

Jamie grinned at him, complete faith and adoration in his tiny face. "I told them you'd come."

Dean looked over the boy's head, at the scared, small faces of the few children huddled together in the corner, and he straightened to his full height. "You guys okay?" he asked softly, watching as only a few of them responded with little nods while the rest merely continued to stare at him. "Alright, come on, we've got to get you out of here."

He took a step towards them, reaching out a hand slowly, and met the frightened boy's gaze. "I'm not going to hurt you, kid," he said softly, reaching closer to him. He nodded when the boy grasped his hand tightly, pulling himself to his feet, and by doing so, leading the others to do the same. "Peyton, get them out of here," he said, leading them over to the blonde who nodded, ushering them up the stairs quietly one by one.

"Dean, the demon," Brooke said, grasping his hand tightly in hers. "It knows you're here. He disappeared, I don't know where to."

Dean nodded, reaching up to cradle her face in his hands. "It's okay," he said, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. "Let's just get the kids out of here, and then we'll worry about--"

Brooke gasped when an unseen force threw Dean across the room, crying out when she saw him crash against the stone wall. She whirled around, and gritted her teeth when she caught sight of the demon three feet away from her, his hand lifted and a smirk on his face. His coal black eyes narrowed at her before turning towards the stairs.

"Damn it," Peyton cursed under her breath. "Run, run, go!" She all but shoved the children as they raced past her on the stairs, and she cried out when she felt a force shove her away and she went sprawling down the stairs, her gun flying from her grasp. The terrified screams of the children rang in her ears, and she saw them cowering in fear on the stairs. She fought against the blackness that started to cloud her vision and pulled herself up to her elbows, reaching her hand out for gun that laid just out of reach. She screamed when a booted heel crashed down onto her arm, and she twisted on the ground to stare up at the soulless monster above her.

"Don't you know that children shouldn't play with guns?" he leered at her, leaning down as he increased the pressure on her arm.

Peyton cried out again, struggling to free herself from under his weight, and bent her leg up, driving her foot into his chest with all the force she could muster. She heard him cry in and fall back, and she crawled as fast as she could towards her gun, ignoring the pain that scorched up to her shoulder. Her fingers grazed the butt of the gun before it flew another foot away from her, and a strong hand gripped her ankle and pulled her back. She turned onto her back, glaring into the black orbs that were housed in an emotionless face. She braced herself for the blow she was sure to come, and blinked when he suddenly fell to his knees.

Brooke stood behind him, a large piece of the wood clutched in her hands. "Peyton, go!" she shouted, swinging the splintered wood at the demon's head as he tried to rise to his feet. "GO!"

Peyton pushed herself to her feet and raced across the room and up the stairs, her hand reassuringly touching each of their heads as she made her way to the door. "It's okay," she said, ushering them through the shattered door. She heard Brooke's shout from behind her, and she turned in time to see her friend fly into a wall behind her and the demon turn towards her. With a flick of his wrist, she flew through the doorway, narrowly missing one of the boys who ran screaming past her, and slammed into the floor. Her head hit the concrete floor with a thud, and she was helpless against the darkness that overtook her then.

Brooke groaned as she pulled herself to her feet, a hand clutching her throbbing head as she looked up. She saw the demon turn away from her and throw Peyton through the door with a wave of his arm. She scrambled to her feet when he headed towards the stairs, the children shrieking in fear, and raced to the discarded shot gun by her feet. She braced it against her chest, whirling it around and aiming at the monster. "Hey!" She pulled the trigger just as he turned to face her, and she felt the gun fly from her grasp as he stumbled back from the buckshot, screaming in pain.

"Brooke!" she heard Dean's voice yell from behind her.

She whirled around, exhaling in relief when she saw him struggling to his feet.

He looked up at her with a pained expression, reaching underneath his jacket to withdraw a handgun, bracing his hands on his knees as he struggled through the pain. "Get them out of here," he shouted, straightening and making his way to the demon as he writhed on the ground. He watched as Brooke jumped over him and raced up the stairs, grasping onto Jamie's outstretched hand and knelt down next to the few remaining children, smiling at them in assurance.

"We've got to go, guys," she said softly, turning their terrified faces away as she demon suddenly leapt to his feet. "Hey, hey, it's okay, alright? I need you guys to run. Run and yell as loud as you can until someone comes to get you, okay?" She watched as they all nodded, tears streaking their terrified faces, and glanced behind them to her best friend's prone form on the ground. "Peyton?" she called out, standing to her feet and peering out the door. She saw the blonde's head turn slightly the side, and she let out a sigh of relief. She nodded, turning back to the boys around her, and knelt down to them again. "Listen, you guys have been so brave. But I need to you to be even braver now, okay? I need you to run. Now."

"Brooke!!"

Brooke looked behind her, shooting to her feet and descending a step at the sight of Dean in a losing struggle with the demon. She stopped mid-step, glancing behind her to see the boys still scared stiff in place, and she knelt in front of Jamie, taking his small face in her hands and leaning in close to him. "Jamie, I need you to be my brave little soldier today, alright? You're mom and dad and Sam are out there somewhere, and I need you to take your friends and find them. Okay?" Jamie's big blue eyes stared up at her in fear, and she could feel his hesitation. "Jamie…I know you can do this. I need you to be the brave little guy that I know you are. So please…help me get your friends out. Okay?"

She smiled when Jamie squared his little shoulders and turned to the other three boys. He looked at each of them, nodding slightly. "I know you're scared," he said. "But it's almost over. It's time for us to go home. So let's go."

Brooke bit her lip to keep from bursting with bride at the sight of her godson taking on the role of a leader, and watched as he stood in the doorway, helping the smallest of the boys step over the broken threshold, before turning and leaping down the last few steps, gritting her teeth against the pain in her legs upon impact. She scrambled forward, diving for the shot gun, and rose back to her feet as Dean threw a punch to the demon's jaw. She raised the heavy barrel to her chest and squeezed the trigger.

The kickback of the gun made her stumble backwards, and she raised her gaze to see that her shot had gone wide, splintering into the wall behind the two fighting figures. She grunted as she forced the gun back up, and closed one eye as she aimed, but upon squeezing the trigger once more, she only heard the click of an empty barrel. "Damn it," she said under her breath, shifting the gun in her hands as she ran towards them. She swung at the back of his head, clipping him on the back of his skull, and beat down the rush of satisfaction at the crunching noise she heard. The blow knocked the demon of his feet, and she took the opportunity to swing again, this time catching him between the shoulder blades. He dropped to his knees with a growl, and she saw Dean retrieve the knife he always kept sheathed in his boot.

The demon's head came up with a sickening snap, and before either of them could move, they were thrown off their feet, landing in a heap on the ground on opposites sides of the room.

Dean shook his head to clear his vision, gritting his teeth in anger. "Fight like a man, you son of a bitch!" he screamed, reaching for his gun and spinning to his feet. He pulled back the hammer and spun on his heel, but his finger froze on the trigger when his eyes sought out his target.

Brooke stood dead center in the front of the demon, its hand clenched tightly around her throat, her painted nails clawing with all their might at its skin. His other hand was fisted tightly around the arm of one of the boys--the latest one to go missing, Robbie Sanders. His bright red hair stood out in shark contrast to his chalk-white face, tears streaking his cheeks as he sobbed in fear.

Blood was dripping from a gash on the back of the demon's head, sending a trail down his neck and onto his white button-up shirt. His dark eyes were staring at him in a withering glare, his lips turned up in a confident smirk at the look of fear on his face. He chuckled, pulling Brooke tighter against him, drawing a panicked whimper from the battered brunette. "What's wrong, Winchester? Suddenly you're not so Desperado as a second ago."

Dean's eyes flicked over the doorway, where Jamie stood cowering just over the threshold, his eyes wide in fear as he watched the situation play out before him, and he silently motioned him to run; get help. Jamie's blue eyes met him in that instant, and he gave a quick nod before he turned and raced down the hall. Only when he knew the boy was truly gone did he turn back the creature before him, clenching his jaw as he met the eyes of the girl he couldn't live without. The fear he saw in them nearly did him in, and it took every ounce of strength he had not to rush the bastard right then and there.

"Let them go," Dean threatened, his voice deadly.

A dark chuckled escaped the demon's throat. "Sure thing, Sport. Just let me toss them to the side and spread my arms for the shot you're just dying to squeeze out," he mocked, glaring. "Things are just starting to get interesting. After all, I give your little comrades about five minutes before they come racing in here, guns a-blazing."

Robbie whimpered when the grip on his arm tightened, and Brooke struggled harder to free herself, merely drawing an angry growl for her captor, who jerked her roughly.

"Now's your chance, Dean. It's time to see just how much of a hero your daddy taught you to be."

Dean frowned, tightening his grip on the gun. "What?"

A patronizing smile graced the demon's face, and he laughed again. "You've postponed my plans for now, but I'll be damned if I'm going to leave here without some form of satisfaction. So it's your call, Winchester. Choose."

Dean felt his heart plummet to the bottom of his stomach, and his eyes locked with Brooke's. "Choose?"

"Which one of them is going to walk out of here," he continued, tightening his grip on both Brooke and Robbie. "The helpless, innocent little tyke with his whole life ahead of him, or the lovely little lady that tamed your wild ways. Because, believe me when I say, either one you choose will bring me the tingles when the other dies."

Dean shook his head, seeing the tears that were welling in Brooke's eyes as she struggled against the iron-vice clutching her neck. He could see her giving up, and he knew which choice was the right to make--if there WAS a right choice to make--but he couldn't bring himself to it. He knew that the demon would snap both their necks by the time his bullet left its barrel. The second footsteps were heard thundering down the hallway, he could have both their hearts ripped from their chests.

He gritted his teeth, glaring in pure hatred at the monster. "I'm not going to play your sick game."

"CHOOSE, Winchester, or so help me I'll kill them both."

"In which case, you'll be dead before you can leave your pathetic meat suit."

The smile returned, and the demon shook his head. "Do you really want to risk that? Could you really live with yourself if you killed both of them? A hapless child and the woman you love? And you call ME a monster." He turned his head to the side, pushing his nose into Brooke's hair, and inhaling deeply, humming deep in his throat. Brooke clenched her eyes shut, squirming against him, and he laughed again. "Either way you choose, it won't stop. Another one of us will come and start it all over again. And the loss you cause for today will have been in vain."

Dean growled deep in his throat, his hands shaking in rage as he aimed the gun directly at the demon's heart. "I won't choose," he growled, tightening his grip on the trigger again.

The demon smirked, pulling Robbie close to his side and squeezing his fingers deep into Brooke's skin. "Too bad," he said.

A shot rang out throughout the room, echoing off the stone walls, and the demon fell to his knees with a shout, his arms falling to his sides and releasing his captives with a shove.

Brooke gasped for breath, reaching around him and pulling a screeching Robbie into her arms and stumbling back, shielding him behind her.

Peyton was crouching in the doorway to the basement, her shot gun tight in her grasp, blood trailing from her mouth and nose as she glared at the creature kneeling on the ground.

Dean saw his chance and took a step forward, aiming his gun once more, but before he could pull the trigger, the demon threw his head back with a tortured scream, thick, black smoke billowing from his wide mouth. They all watched, helpless as the demon escaped through the cracks in the window, and the man he'd been inhabiting for who knows how long fell the ground in a broken heap.

Silence hovered around them then, the only sounds reverberating off the walls being that of a scared child sobbing in fear, and heavy breathing from the three adults recovering slowly. Dean's gun fell the ground in a clatter as he raced across the room, dropping to his knees next to Brooke and the boy, pulling her into his arms in a fierce embrace, pressing a desperate kiss to her head.

Peyton sighed from her place on the top of the stairs, cradling her shotgun across her lap as she drew her sleeve over her chin, grimacing when it came back bloody. She raised her head, meeting the gaze of her best friend, and she couldn't help the annoyance that was laced with her relief.

"Chris, Davis, what the hell is up with you and basements?"

Brooke mustered out a laugh as her friend broke the silence, and she raised her head to look up into Dean's worried eyes, and for the first time in the last few hours, let herself feel completely safe.

* * *

**Seriously…longest chapter I've written so far. And I'm thinking it might be my favorite. Maybe. Though I'm entirely sure. The whole Peyton punching Dean thing really is a highlight. *grin***

**Well, my lovelies…either the next chapter or the one after is the epilogue, depending on how it words out. I'm hoping to have the next chapter up by the end of the week, beginning of next. I'm furiously typing away, and delving deeper into the love that Dean and Brooke share.**

**Let me know what you all think of this chapter. Until next time, my dahlinks!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Second Chances**

**A.N. Man...I can't even imagine that it's almost over. **

**This chapter is all about the aftermath. I know I said before that Lucas wouldn't be making an appearance in this story, mainly because I dispise him...but I changed my mind at the last minute. So he's here for, like, a millisecond in a cutie moment with P. Sawyer.**

* * *

"_Top story tonight: It's a happy ending in the stories of the seven families who have feared for the safety of their sons these past few weeks. Midmorning yesterday, the missing children appeared in the lobby of a local police station, safe and sound. The aspects of their abduction still remains a little hazy, each of them only being able to proclaim that a monster had held them each in a cave-like structure, and how it was a band of superheroes that managed to rescue them. The investigation remains open to try to discover the truth of the situation, though with no suspect and none of the children being able to--or perhaps, being WILLING to--describe their rescuers to detectives, perhaps it's best to just label this case closed, and sit back and dwell on the fact that seven families are intact once more. This is Tyler Krouse, Channel Seven News."_

Lucas Scott hit the mute button on the television across the room, settling back in the couch and pulling his fiancée close to his chest, careful to avoid bumping her dislocated shoulder or the stitched wound on her forehead. He felt her snuggle close to his side, sighing contently, and he smiled. "So you're part of a band of superheroes now, huh?"

He felt her snort against his neck. "Whatever. Superheroes don't get beaten and battered after a fight," she said, wincing against the pain in her arm. "It doesn't matter anyway. The kids are home safe, along with Brooke and Jamie. That's all that counts."

Lucas nodded, running his hand through her damp hair. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to help," he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "The meeting about this movie thing was just so last minute…"

Peyton shook her head, smiling. "Don't worry about it, Luke. It's no big deal. Besides, if you'd been there you wouldn't have let me had my Rambo moment and I couldn't hold the fact that I saved Dean Winchester's ass over his head for the rest of eternity."

He grinned, chuckling, and nodded. "I guess you're right." They sat in silence for a long moment, the sound of refrigerator humming in the background being the only sound aside from their breathing. He let his gaze pass over the framed photos on the shelf above the fireplace, training on the picture of a smiling Brooke Davis with her arms around Haley and Peyton, and he felt the smile slide from his face. "What do you think will happen now? Now that's all done and over with?"

Peyton sighed, fiddling with the button on his shirt, and shrugged. "I don't know," she said softly. "I want to say that everybody's going to get their happily ever after."

He glanced down at her, his hand stilling in her hair. "But…"

She looked up at him, a sad smile on her face. "But I think things are far from being over and done with."

* * *

Millie hummed quietly to herself as she twisted the key into the lock of Clothes Over Bros.--or what had once been C over B at one time-- and pulled the strap of her purse higher onto her shoulder. She smiled contently at the locked door and turned on her heel, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket. She started down the sidewalk, running through the options in her head of what to do for dinner, when the sound of her name being called from behind her made her halt and turn around. Her eyes widened at the sight of Sam Winchester, the brother of the infamous Dean, jogging towards her with a boyish grin on his face.

"Millie," he said in greeting, coming to stop a foot away from her as he caught his breath. His shaggy hair was blowing in the slight breeze, and he ran a hand through it as he smiled at her.

"Sam," she said after a moment, smiling, trying to stomp down the nervousness that was welling in her chest. "It's nice to see you again." She motioned towards the dark store. "Um, Brooke's not here. She said she was feeling under the weather today and was going to stay home."

"No, no, I know," Sam said, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "I just left her house a little while ago. She mentioned that I could find you hear."

Millie's eyebrows rose to her hairline, her eyes wide. "Why…why did you want to find me?" The smile that appeared on Sam's face after she spoke seemed to reach his eyes and make them sparkle, and she could feel her heart thunder in her chest.

He shrugged, glancing around the street. "Well, I was wondering if your cupboards were still empty."

She frowned, tilting her head to the side. "My cupboards?"

"Yeah," Sam added, grinning again. "You know, 'groceries are essential?'" He laughed when a pink blush tinged her cheeks, and he couldn't believe how unbelievably cute it made her seem. "Because I was thinking, you know….if they're still somewhat on the empty side, I hear that the, uh, Crossroads diner here in town serves the best burgers in North Carolina."

Millie tried to keep her jaw from dropping open. Was he asking her out?

"And I'm not real sure what my brother and my plans are just yet, or how much longer we're going to be here in town. And I'd really hate to miss the opportunity to try one of those burgers. Not to mention the opportunity to maybe talk to this pretty girl I met the other day."

She searched his earnest face, biting her lower lip. "Really?"

He nodded, shrugging. "She made an impression." He ran his hand through his hair again, chuckling nervously, and took a step towards her. "So? What do you say? Want to take a big leap with me and try one of those state best burgers? Maybe talk my ear off for a bit? Because I'm positive that I'll be kicking myself for the next few years if I didn't take a chance and get to know you, Millie. Even it was just for an afternoon."

Millie smiled, catching a stray strand of hair blowing in the wind, and tucking it behind her ear as she looked at her feet. She couldn't believe this was happening. Here was this gorgeous guy standing in front of her, asking HER if she wanted to grab some food and talk for an entire afternoon, and all she wanted was to jump up and down and squeal like a fifteen-year-old on her first date.

She raised her head, looking into his brown eyes, and her smile grew as she shrugged. "Well, I'm not sure how great their burgers are," she said, swinging her arms out at her sides slightly. "But I do know that their fries are to die for. Don't worry though; most tourists tend to mix them up. I'd be happy to lead the way through the menu, though."

Sam felt the grin spread across his face, and he nodded, watching as Millie shyly looked at the ground again before moving to the side, motioning for him to walk beside her. He smiled at her as they fell into step together, and he pushed every thought about hunts and demons and road trips to the back of his mind, letting the company of the pretty girl next to him be the sole focus of his evening.

* * *

The sound of a distant thump drew Dean out of his restful sleep, and he groaned softly as he shifted his head on the pillow.

His whole body ached as he stretched his arms over his head, reaching across the mattress. He frowned when his arm only found cool sheets, not the warm body he was expecting to be lying next to him. Opening his eyes, he turned his head to look at the empty spot where Brooke had fallen asleep the night before, his mouth pulled down in a frown. He pushed himself up on his elbows, wincing against the stiffness of his joints, and ran a hand through his matted hair. He sighed, glancing around the bedroom. The door to the hall was open, a soft light shining from down the hall.

Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, Dean opened his mouth in an involuntary yawn, running a hand down his ragged face. Sighing, he pushed himself to his feet, the chill from the wooden floor sending chills up his legs. He made his way across the room and through the door, squinting against the sudden light that flooded his vision, and peered down the hallway.

The sound of the shower running pulled him in the direction of the ajar bathroom door, and he quietly pulled it open further, peering into the steam filled room. The mirror above the sink was fogged over, beads of perspiration dripping down the glass. He sidestepped the pile of clothes by the door, nudging it closed with his foot as he stepped inside the room. He furrowed his brow as he leaned in towards the mirror. The words, "I love you, B. Davis" were scrawled across the bottom of the glass in Peyton's familiar handwriting. They stood out in sharp contrast against the misty fog, meaning they'd been written there some time ago and washed away. He and Sam had used the same ploy to write insults to each other in the bathrooms of the motels they'd stayed at over the years, convinced their father never knew their secret.

Imagine their surprise when, one day as the shower was warming up, their father's handwriting appeared on the mirror, forbidding them from ever doing it again.

Dean smiled at the memory, turning his gaze to the shower at his side. He could see Brooke's silhouette through the shower curtain, her face turned away from him as she ducked her head under the spray of water. He leaned against the sink, watching as her hands ran themselves through her hair again and again, and he couldn't help the surge of lust that coursed through his veins.

Silently, he stripped out of his T-shirt and boxers, tossing them into a pile next to Brooke's clothes, and made his way to the shower. Pulling the curtain to the side, he threw one leg into the tub, then closed his eyes when his other knocked a shampoo bottle off the ledge and onto the tile with a loud a thud. He opened his eyes to see Brooke turning to face him, her eyes blinking up at him from the spray of water. He watched as her trademark smirk tugged at her lips.

"Was that your attempt at being sneaky? Because I heard you the second your big elephant feet stepped foot in the room."

Dean smiled, shrugging. "Can't blame a guy for trying." He grinned as he watched her roll her eyes, turning her back to him and letting the hot water pour over her face again. He fought back the anger that welled in his chest when his eyes saw the unsightly bruise that stretched from her right shoulder blade to the center of her spine. He'd know it was there, but seeing it now in the light, seeming to stand out in garish contrast compared to her pale skin, just put it in perspective.

He'd nearly lost her.

He reached his arms out, his hands gently taking a hold of her hips, and pulled her back against his chest. Her hands moved to cover his own, and he lowered his head, his lips trailing softly over the curve of her shoulder. He felt her shiver at the contact, and his arms circled her waist, his fingertips tracing light patterns across her stomach. He trailed his lips up her neck, placing a feather soft kiss against her earlobe. "How's your arm?" he whispered, inhaling her intoxicating scent.

She shrugged against him, closing her eyes. "It just aches a little," she said softly, tilting her head to the side when his lips started to trail down her neck again.

Dean nodded against her chin, one of his hands trailing up to caress the soft skin of her throat. "And what about these?" he asked, his fingertips tracing the finger-like bruises marring the skin there.

"They look worse than they are."

He nodded against her shoulder, the back of his hand trailing a path down her arm. He held her against him as the pour of water cascaded over them, his fingers tracing patterns along her slick skin.

"Do you think Jamie will ever be able to forget it?" Brooke asked softly, her finger drawing patterns in the water splattering the tile walls. She felt him lift his head from her shoulder. "Or the other boys? Do you think they'll ever be able to just…forget and get back to living their lives like it never happened?"

Dean frowned at the sadness in her voice, and his fingers stilled against her skin. He pressed his lips into the side of cheek, shrugging slightly as he answered. "Maybe someday. A few years down the road, when they're older and plagued with things like…basketball and college. Hopefully it'll just seem like a childhood nightmare. Just some scary story their overactive imaginations cooked up." He sighed, pressing a kiss to her cheek. He heard her quick intake of breath, and he turned to see her biting her lip, her eyes clenched close. "Hey," he whispered, gently taking hold of her shoulder.

A quiet sob escaped from between her lips, and he frowned, turning her to face him so the water pelted her back.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong? Did I hurt you?" He reached up and pushed her wet hair out of her face, tilting her chin up to look at him when she opened her eyes. She shook her head, and he frowned, unsure. "Brooke, what is it?"

She stared up at him, her hands flat against his chest as she shrugged. "We came close to losing everything, Dean," she said quietly; brokenly. She pressed a hand to the side of her head, closing her eyes when she felt the burn of tears. "Jamie and…if Sam hadn't thought of the cell phone…"

Dean shook his head, pushing back her hair again, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I know, I know," he whispered, pulling her against his chest, her arms trailing up his back. "But he did, baby. Jamie's fine, the kids are fine…we're fine. That's all that matters, alright?" She nodded against his chest, and he ran his fingers up and down her back. He pulled away, tipping her face up to his. "Hey…I love you."

Her lips trembled slightly as she nodded. "I love you, too," she whispered softly, standing on her tiptoes to press a kiss against his lips. His hands splayed out across her back, pressing her tightly into his damp chest, as her fingers knotted themselves into his hair, tugging his face closer to hers.

Dean lifted her off her feet and turned them around so the water pelted his back, shielding her from the spray. He pressed her back against the tile wall, his lips trailing a row of kisses down her neck, her voice sighing into his ear with every movement.

Brooke closed her eyes as his lips left a burning trail across her skin, and her fingernails dug deeply into the skin of his shoulders. She winced when his hand traced the tender skin of her shoulder, before he kissed a gentle kiss to it, alleviating the discomfort. His hand trailed across her waist, down her leg, before cupping the sensitive skin behind her knee. She felt her breath quicken when he hiked it around his hip, cradling her body against his, and as they made love against the shower wall, she let herself believe that they could live this happy forever.

* * *

Brooke stared at her reflection in the mirror above the vanity from her place on the bed. Her body was wrapped in a fluffy white robe, her hair pulled back in a messy bun at the nape of her neck. Her arms were wrapped around her waist as she stared, the brokenness in her eyes seeming to mock her as they looked back. She swallowed down the sob that was making its way up her throat, and she closed her eyes to keep from losing her nerve.

She knew what she had to do.

She looked up when she heard Dean's footsteps down the hall, and she quickly wiped the tears from her eyes before he walked in, a smile on his face.

"So, I was talking Bobby before he skipped town," he was saying, running a towel over his still damp hair. "You remember Jason, that real southern hunter friend of his? He helped with a case about three or four months after we got together? Anyway, he's got this ranch down in Dallas. Isolated. Right in the middle of nowhere. Great place to go when you want to get away. He's on some job over in Idaho, and he's gonna be another week or two. So I figured I'd make a call, get his OK, and maybe we could escape reality for a few days."

Brooke watched him as he made his way towards her, chucking the towel into the hamper in the corner of the room, before stopping in front of her. She smiled up at him softly, shrugging. "Dallas, huh?" she asked quietly, praying to whatever God existed that she would keep the tears at bay.

Dean shrugged, pursing his lips. "Yeah, why not? It's warm, quiet. A bit more livestock than I'd care for, but as long as you're there to captivate my attention, I don't think I'll mind." He crouched in front of her, his elbows on his knees. "So, what do you say, Davis? Will you be my cowgirl?"

She smiled at him, shaking her head slightly as she reached out, resting her hand against his cheek. She stared into his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Dean, you need to go."

He laughed, not noticing the sadness in her voice. "Only if you go, Dimples. You know I can't rock a cowboy hat by myself."

Brooke let out a shaky breath, shaking her head a bit firmer this time. "No, Dean, you don't understand," she said, biting her lip tightly. "You need to go. You need to leave. You need to put Tree Hill in your rearview mirror and never look back."

Dean frowned, recoiling from her touch, and stood to his feet, staring down at her. He clenched his hands into fists at his side, confused. "Are you screwing with me or something?" he asked.

"No," she replied softly, shaking her head. She looked up at him. "You can't stay here, Dean. We can't be together."

Her words hit him like a ton of bricks, and he stumbled backwards a step or two. He didn't understand what was happening. Five minutes ago, he'd been professing his love to her, promising her the world and anything else he could give her, and now she was telling him to leave? What had changed in that short time span to bring about this turnaround?

He stared at her, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, shoulders tense as she looked up at him brokenly, unshed tears shining in her eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm the panic he felt tightening his chest. "Brooke, what the hell are you talking about?" he demanded in a shaky voice. She shook her head slowly, her lips trembling. "What do you mean 'we can't be together?' Damn it, Brooke, that's all we've wanted since I came back to town. What's going on, huh? Why the whole change of pace?"

Brooke closed her eyes, her fingernails digging into her palm of her hands at the torment lacing his voice. She sighed, looking up into his angry face, and shrugged. "How many people have you saved in the last four years, Dean? Dozens? More?"

He scoffed, holding his hands out at his sides. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Last night you were willing to sacrifice someone else to save me."

He froze at her words, watching the war of emotions battle their way across her face. "What?"

A single, lone tear slid its way down her cheek, and she swiped at it furiously, sighing. "When that demon had me and that little boy, and he told you to choose. You were going to choose Robbie." He opened his mouth the reply, but she held up a hand, cutting him off. "I saw it in your eyes, Dean. When he gave you that ultimatum, you HESITATED."

"Hell, yes, I hesitated," Dean shouted, taking a step towards her. "Have you ever faced with a decision like that, Brooke? 'Decide who lives and dies; you've got three seconds.' It's not exactly an easy thing to consider."

Brooke shot to her feet, her arms hanging limply at her sides as she stared at him. "But it shouldn't have been," she cried, unable to stop the tears that slid down her cheeks now. "It shouldn't have even been a difficult decision, Dean. Me or a child? Or deciding to kill the demon, even if it meant it killed me first. You shouldn't have had to hesitate, don't you see that?"

Dean scoffed, shaking his head as he glared at her. "Oh, so I should have let you die, is that it?"

"Yes, that's it," she said, shrugging. "You're a hunter, Dean. You save people. And the fact that you were considering letting an innocent child take my place…that you were willing to let me live instead of him…"

"No," he said, shaking his head when he realized where she was going with all this. "No, no, you cannot make a decision like this based on that one incident, Brooke."

He was practically begging now, his voice pleading, because he knew she was right.

In that instant that he was staring into her eyes in the basement, his gun leveled at her chest which was shielding its real target, he'd convinced himself he wouldn't lose her. In that short instant, he'd been willing to let a scared, helpless child take her place if it meant they'd be together. He would have let the demon--who was sure to start his plan over in another city, another state--escape unharmed if it meant he could hold Brooke in his arms for the rest of life.

He knew she was right. And the fact that she had been willing to sacrifice herself; the fact that she'd made peace in that moment that she would die looking into his eyes, only made the truth in her words hit that much harder.

"But it won't be one incident, Dean," she was saying, her voice cracking as she cried softly. "What about when it happens next time? If we're on a date one night and we get ambushed, and it's me or a dozen innocent people in a movie theater. What then?" She swiped at the tears that stained her cheeks, shaking her head. "It shouldn't be like that, Dean. It can't."

Dean nodded, fighting against the burn of tears he felt welling to the surface, and met her eyes. "So what? You're saying that because I love you, we can't be together, is that it? That I won't be impartial when it comes to the hunt? That I would let some demon slaughter a whole town of people than lose you, is that right?" She merely stood staring at him, her lips pressed together to stifle the sobs he saw shaking her shoulders. "Come on, a minute ago, you wouldn't stop talking! Is that what you're saying, Brooke? Because if it is, you're dead wrong."

She shook her head. "I'm not, Dean. You and I both know that if Peyton hadn't made that shot, you're decision wouldn't have been that of a hunter." She tried not to flinch under the harshness of his glare as she took a step towards him. "Your father raised you to be a hunter, Dean. To make tough decisions, even when they feel like the wrong ones. And when it came to make one of those decisions, you faltered. I could see it in your eyes. For a split second, you honestly considered it. And it breaks my heart to know that it was because of me." She let out a broken sob when his eyes closed tightly, his arms crossed over his chest. "I can't be the reason some innocent person dies, Dean. And it will kill me to see you leave again. But as long as we're together, I'm so afraid that you'll always hesitate when it comes to things like that. When I'm in danger, or when the next evil monster decides to use me as leverage against you, there will be a part of you that will want to give in to whatever it demands just to keep me safe. And I couldn't live with myself if that happened."

She came to a stop in front of him, wishing that he would open his eyes and look at her. She reached out and laid her hand flat against his chest, throwing away the notion that she could actually feel his heart breaking right then and there. "Dean, please…"

She watched his Adam's Apple bob up and down as he opened his eyes, staring over her head as he fought to regain his composure. She wanted to cry out when his eyes met hers, the resignation and betrayal shadowing their beauty as they stared down at her. "I love you," she whispered softly, shaking her head. "But your duty is to them. As much as I need you…they need you more. You can't sacrifice them for me, Dean."

Dean reached up slowly, cradling her face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away the tears that were now freely flowing down her cheeks. "Because I would in a heartbeat," he amended quietly, pressing his forehead against hers. He felt her nod against him, and swallowed down the sob he could feel welling in his chest. "Damn it, Brooke, how do you expect me leave now? How am I supposed to just go back to the way things were before Nathan called; go back to pretending you didn't exist?"

Brooke clenched her eyes shut against the feeling of his skin against hers, his breath cool against her face, and she shrugged, sobbing softly. "Because you're Dean Winchester," she said quietly, clutching the fabric of his T-shirt in her hand. "And you're a damn good hunter. You're meant to save all the people you can. I'll just…fade into the background eventually."

Dean shook his head, pulling her against his chest. "You'll never be background noise, Brooke," he whispered into her hair. "You're front and center, no matter what."

She sobbed against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, letting their tears and their broken hearts say all the things they couldn't bring themselves to say out loud.

A final goodbye.

* * *

**Yeah…I know. I better sleep with one eye open, right?**

**And with that…Second Chances comes to an end…..**

**Oh, whatever. Even I'm not that cruel. *grin***

**As I said before, the next chapter OR TWO would be the last of this tale, so there's still one more to go, my lovelies!**

**Leave your feedback and let me know what you thought. And be strong: I promise that this tale may have a happy ending yet.**


	14. Epilogue

**Second Chances**

**A.N. Well…this is it. The end. The big curtain call. I just can't be believe it's over. *sniff sniff* First I just have to thank all of you guys who have stuck with this little underdog story. I have had so much fun playing out Brooke and Dean's love story the way I think it should happen, an I appreciate you guys enjoying it right along with me.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. As always.**

* * *

The house was quiet.

And the silence was driving him insane.

Dean sat motionless on the couch, his dry, red-rimmed eyes staring intently into the polished tabletop in front of him. His elbows were propped up on his knees, his hands dangling uselessly between them. He could literally feel the minutes creeping by at an agonizingly slow pace, the tick of the clock on the wall echoing like a time bomb in his ears.

He wanted nothing more than to leave this house--leave Tree Hill, leave behind every memory he'd made since he came roaring back into town. He wanted to forget the peace and comfort he'd felt here; the familiarity. He wanted to get back to his I-don't-give-a-damn lifestyle--love 'em and leave 'em, just like he'd been doing the last four years.

But he knew he'd just be living a lie.

He sighed, glancing up at the clock once more. Sam was taking his sweet time getting back here. He'd taken Millie out for breakfast, wanting to spend a few hours with her before he left town, unsure of when or if they'd ever cross paths again.

Dean wanted to tell him not to bother--to just forget about whatever ridiculous feelings he had towards this girl. That it would do nothing for him but end in heartbreak and regret. But he recognized the smile on his brother's face when he was leaving the house that morning. And he couldn't bring himself to do it.

A knock at the door caught his attention, and he turned in time to see it swing open, Haley nodding at him quietly as she maneuvered her way inside. One look at her face, and he knew that she knew.

She knew he was leaving again.

She shut the door behind her, walking towards him slowly, a plastic-wrapped plate in her hands. Her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her jeans and T-shirt giving a glimpse into the innocent, awe-struck kid she used to be when he'd first met her all those years ago. She smiled at him sadly when she came to a stop just behind the couch. "Hey there, Eeyore," she said, reciting the old nickname she'd called him.

Dean forced a smirk onto his face, turning in his seat to face her. "Hey, Piglet."

She grinned, nodding in appreciation that he'd remembered their old routine, and glanced around the room. "Where's Sam?"

"Off wining and dining Millicent," he replied, clearing his throat to soften the roughness he heard. "He wanted to say goodbye to her before we hit the road. Trade phone numbers and emails and…valentines for all I know."

Haley nodded, the smile slipping from her face. "So you're really leaving then."

It was a statement, not a question.

He met her somber gaze, swallowing down the emotion he could feel bubbling up, and nodded. "It's what she wants."

"It's not what she wants, you idiot," she said, exasperated. She shook her head, setting the plate down on the coffee table at her side before she turned to face him, arms crossed over her chest. "Damn it, Dean. You know Brooke. She doesn't know what she wants. She never has, other than when it came to you. She ALWAYS knew what she wanted when it came to you."

Dean dropped his gaze to his lap, suddenly unable to meet Haley's gaze.

"She is doing what she thinks has to be done," she continued. "Just like she always does. She did the exact same thing back in high school, with Lucas and Peyton."

"And it worked out for the best, didn't it?" he asked, finally raising his read to look at her again. Her lips were closed in a thin, tight line, and he knew that he'd found a flaw in her rant. "The thing about Brooke and her selfless, savior behavior? Most of the time…it's the right thing to do." He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Who were we fooling, Hales? The whole small town, grounded deal…it's not me. I can't be 'that guy.' Not when there a million of those evil sons of bitches in the world, lurking in every damn corner, just waiting. Waiting for their chance."

"You're not the only hunter in the world, Dean," Haley reminded him softly. He stared simply stared at her, that stubborn, determined expression on his face that she had found so infuriating four years ago. There was no changing his mind when he wore that face. She sighed, shaking her head. "Why can't you just believe that you deserve this just as much as she does?"

Dean smirked, shaking his head, as he rose to his feet. "Because she deserves a hell of a lot better than me." He turned to face her fully, seeing her opening her mouth to argue with him once more, and he held his arms out this sides. "It's done, Haley. She's made up her mind and, in that, mine too. We both just need to get on with our lives, the best that we can. Okay?" He watched as she stared him down for a long moment, her eyes desperately searching his for any way to talk him out of this, before she sighed, nodding in resignation. He nodded then, too, before he let his gaze drop to the plate on the table. "Is that food?"

Haley couldn't help the laugh that left her then, and she smiled, nodding. "Yeah," she said, rubbing the back of her neck as she pointed to the plastic-covered sandwiches. "Jamie helped me make them this morning. He wanted you guys to have something to snack on during your trip. He even color coordinated them with toothpicks, arranging them into D's and S's." She rolled her eyes. "Obviously, there are more D's. It appears that his whole rivalry with Sam doesn't end with his leaving town."

He laughed, absentmindedly running a hand across his unshaven jaw. "Someone's gotta keep Sammy on his toes," he said. He sighed, raising his gaze from the plate to Haley. "I'm gonna miss him, you know."

She nodded, shrugging. "He'll miss you, too. Uncle Dean is his new favorite hero. You'll, um…you'll call, won't you? To check on Jamie? Maybe to let me and Nathan know how you are from time to time?"

He met her questioning gaze. Could he? What would he do? Call every few weeks or months, and listen to the earnest little voice on the other end of the line, wanting nothing more than to be there with him--with her? "Yeah," he lied, speaking softly. "Yeah, you bet."

Haley smiled softly, nodding, and he was secretly relieved when she didn't challenge she lie she so easily knew he was telling.

That was one of the things he'd always loved about Haley James Scott: She knew how to approach sensitive situations with caution, and knew when to let things drop.

God, he'd miss her too.

He cleared his throat suddenly, shifting on his feet. "God, I hate chick flick moments," he quipped, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had settled between them.

Haley laughed again, surprised to feel the sting of tears in her eyes, and made her way around the couch. She stopped in front of him, looking up into his face as he towered over her, just like he always had. She smiled, and raised herself onto her tiptoes, throwing her arms around his broad shoulders. She felt his strong arms come up to cradle her back, and he bent his head to accommodate her lower height. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, smiling up at him. "Thank you, Dean," she said softly, settling back onto her own two feet. "For everything."

He nodded, ducking his head in a humble gesture, so unlike the man she'd known before. "It was my pleasure, Hales," he said softly, meeting her eyes. "Really. You and Nathan…you guys are the best friends I've ever had. You're, uh…you're family. For lack of a better word. And, uh…I'm…I'm always here. Always. For anything you need."

Haley bobbed her head quickly, swiping at the tears that were now freely making their way down her cheeks, and she smiled at him, wrapping her arms around her waist. "You take care of yourself, Dean Winchester," she said, taking a step backwards towards the door.

Dean smiled. "You too."

And with one last smile in his direction, and weak but heartfelt wave of her hand, he watched Haley James Scott walk out the door to the house he wished he could stay in--the house that he wanted to grow old in with the woman he loved.

And then the door closed.

And he knew it was over.

* * *

"So what'd you tell Millie?"

Sam looked over at his older brother as he lifted his gaze from the map on his lap, his attention really only half focused on the routes and detours. He took in the sight of his brother's tense expression--the way his eyes were glued straight to the road ahead, never once even glancing at anything or anyone they passed, as if he was trying with all his might to put this town--and everyone in it--behind him for good.

Which, considering exactly who he was leaving behind, was probably his intention.

He shrugged, turning back to the map as he plucked at an invisible string on the knees of his jeans. "That I had to leave," he said simply. "She knew I might not have been in town for much longer. I've got her number; she's got mine. We'll keep in touch and just…see what happens, I guess." From the corner of his eye, he saw his brother nod absentmindedly, and he sighed quietly.

The minutes passed by in silence, not even the annoying strands of Black Sabbath or Metallica pouring from the ancient speakers of the Impala, until they passed the sign that announced they were now leaving Tree Hill, North Carolina. Sam peeked over at Dean, seeing the stiff straightness of his shoulders even as he slumped forward slightly in the driver's seat, and he folded the map over in his hands, turning slightly to face him. "Can I just say something?" he asked, glancing out as they passed the town limit sign, before settling on his brother's face once more. "Without any commentary from you, or any grief or whatever else might come to your mind?"

Dean didn't even look at him as he pursed his lips, lifting one shoulder in a noncommittal gesture. "Give it your best shot."

Sam ignored the emotionless tone with which his brother spoke, and he leaned his arm against the window ledge, his fingers tapping idly against the leather. "You're making a mistake," he started, gauging Dean's face for any reaction to his words. His expression remained the same; cool, distant, collected. Miserable. "I know that you've got it in your mind that this whole hunter-normal life thing can't work. You're convinced that, given our lifestyles and our jobs and our duties, we can't have that kind of life waiting for us somewhere. The loving girlfriend, the devoted friends, the support system that's more than willing to buy you a beer on a Friday night after a particularly brutal hunt and take your mind of it with mindless jokes and conversation. The kind of life that, for some reason I just cannot comprehend, you've convinced yourself you don't deserve."

He watched as the muscle in Dean's jaw twitched and tightened slightly, but his lips remained shut in their pursed position.

"Brooke Davis is probably the most amazing girl I've ever met, Dean. She's just got this…glow about her, I don't know. But it's obvious that she is heads over heels for you. And, sharing in your same distorted sense of right and wrong, she's pushing everything that she wants--not to mention, everything that she rightly deserves--to the backburner because she's convinced it's the 'right' thing to do. She understands what we do. Even more amazingly, she ACCEPTS it. She gets that it's part of who we are. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find that, Dean? Someone who doesn't give a damn that you fight monsters on a daily basis? Who doesn't care about all the lies and fake ID's and endless scams that you pull on a daily basis just to do the job? I wish that I could be half that lucky, to find someone like that.

"You're my brother, Dean. And I love you, okay? I've looked up to you most of my life, respecting you. Wishing that I could be half the man that you are. But this? The way you're handling this?" He shook his head, scoffing. "It's not the right thing, Dean. The right thing would be to turn this car around and head back into that town. The right thing would be for you to track Brooke down, and argue and plead and do whatever the hell it takes for her to see that it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter that you're a hunter, and that, yeah, on a daily basis, you'll be worried that some demon is going to grab her or use her against you in some way. Because whether you're there with her, or halfway across the country, you're still going to be worrying about the same thing. And that you'll be there with her, at her side, ready to beat down whatever it is."

Dean's gaze remained fixed on the road, unblinking.

"You love her. In ways that I'm not even sure words could describe. And, having felt that for myself, no matter how long ago it might seem at times…I can tell you that it's all there is. That right there. That's all that matters. The demons and the hunts and the evil that we face everyday…it all can wait. Because it will still be there, waiting for us to finish it off. But Brooke? I don't know how long she can wait before her heart completely gives up, Dean. Not to mention yours, too."

Dean nodded, licking his lips with the tip of his tongue, as he glanced sidelong at his brother. "You done?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Sam frowned, nodding.

"Alright, then," he replied, pushing the power button to the radio with his thumb, and turning the volume knob as high as it would go with a flick of his wrist.

His hands returned to the steering wheel, beating out the rhythm to Led Zeppelin's Stairway to Heaven, his head bobbing slightly to the beat.

Sam stared at him, crestfallen, before he let his gaze settle onto the rearview mirror, watching the town he'd come to grow quite fond of fade into the distance.

* * *

"It's for the best, you know."

Brooke looked up from her piece of double chocolate layer cake, her fork lying limply in her hand, and met the sympathetic gaze of her best friend over the counter of her store.

Peyton sat with her legs crossed, her feet dangling off the side of the bare counter, licking the fork clean of any remaining frosting. She shrugged, smiling softly. "Look, I know you love him and that he loves you. But the whole hunter situation…I mean, he leaves, a lot, and you just sit at home, waiting for the phone call that will either tell you he's on his way home or he's never coming back. It's not a way to live your life, B. Davis, no matter how crazy about the guy you are."

Brooke nodded, dropping her gaze back to her half-eaten cake, her shoulders lifting in a shrug. "I know, Peyton," she said softly, tracing meaningless patterns into the flawless icing. "Deciding that he should leave; that us being together will just affect his job and anyone he saves from now until…whenever. It was the right thing to do. It's just…going to take a little while to get over."

She heard a soft chuckle, and she looked over at Haley as she lounged on the loveseat across the room, her cake nothing but a dark smear on her paper plate now.

"Jamie misses him already," she said, resting her head against her fist as she leaned against the arm of the sofa. "I guess nobody really expected him to remember Dean, let alone get so attached to him. Hell, I don't even think I expected to get so attached to him again."

Peyton groaned, throwing her head back as she shifted her sling-clad arm. "Jesus, Haley, you're so pro-Dean," she joked, grinning. "What about all his stubbornness, or the way he always just seems so thrown together at the last minute? Or, God, his taste in music."

Haley laughed from across the room, pointing a condescending finger in her friend's direction. "Need I remind you, Miss Sawyer, that half the vinyl's you own, Dean has on cassette tapes, sitting in an old box on the floor of the Impala." Peyton's mouth fell open at her words, and she smirked, waving her finger in her direction. "Say what you want; you and Dean have way more in common than you want to admit."

Brooke smiled softly as her two best friends bickered playfully with each other, and she rested her chin in her hand as she stared absently at the countertop. She could get through this. This aching, hole in her heart would fade over time, just like it did before. She could go on with her life, knowing that whoever crossed Dean Winchester's path would be safe, no fear of distractions on his part. He'd go on to save the world, just like his father had trained him to do.

And she would go on living her life, wishing that he was there to save her.

"Brooke."

She looked up, meeting Haley's brown eyes, and she tried to ignore the sympathy and heartbreak she found here.

"You okay?"

She nodded, braving a small smile, and lifted her shoulders again. "Yeah," she said softly, trying to convince herself that the words she spoke were true. "It was the right thing to do, Hales. No matter how bad it hurts now…I know it's the path he's supposed to be on."

"Good God, you're such a friggin' martyr."

Brooke's head snapped up, turning towards the new but achingly familiar voice that spoke from the open doorway to her store, and her eyes widened of their own accord when she saw him standing there, one arm held out to his side, the other forcing the door to stay open next to him.

Her mouth opened and closed for several seconds, her shock clearly written across her pale face as she watched him take three long steps into the store, letting the door swing shut behind him. His eyes never once left her face, and she couldn't seem to make herself look away. "Dean…"

He nodded, his old, trademark smirk set firmly upon his lips as he held her gaze.

She slid herself off of her stool, the surprised and shocked stares of her two companions fading into the background as she made her way around the counter, her hands clenching themselves into the fabric of her shirt, only if to keep them from reaching out to him. She stopped herself from walking any closer to him, letting her feet plant themselves firmly in front of the counter as she stared at him. "What are you doing here? I mean…I thought--"

In three long strides, Dean closed the short distance between them, and despite the stares of the two other women occupying the room, crushed her to his chest, capturing her lips in his in a heated kiss. He felt her gasp slightly when their lips made contact, but he merely pressed on, wrapping one arm tightly around her waist while the other found leverage in her dark hair. He pulled apart only when his breathing demanded it, and he stared down into her shocked eyes, caressing her cheek gently. "To hell with the right thing, Davis," he said softly, watching as her eyes began to shine with unshed tears. "I let you go once…I'll be damned if I do it again."

Brooke bit her lip tightly to keep from releasing the sob that was welling in her throat, and she shook her head slowly, staring up into his eyes. "Dean, this can't work out between us," she tried to explain, but his shrug cut her short.

"Why not?" he asked, gripping her arms tightly as he lowered his gaze to hers. "Because I'm so in love with you my head won't always be on the hunt? Brooke, even with us not being together, my head STILL won't be. It'll be here, with you, worrying. And if that's going to happen anyway, I'd rather do it here, in your arms, than in a million different cities across the country."

She closed her eyes, shaking her head once more. "Dean…"

"I want to marry you, Brooke Davis."

Her eyes shot open at his words, and the gasps of her friends behind her mingled with her own.

Dean was nodding, his smug smirk back in place. "You heard me," he said. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I'll give up hunting, if that'll ease your mind. I'll get my job back at the garage, I'll freaking coach Jamie's basketball team. Not that they'll win any games with me calling the shots, but I'll gladly take the ribbing and the beatings from Nathan if it means that I get to be with you."

Brooke laughed, pulling back slightly from him intense gaze. "Dean, this is ridiculous," she said, running a hand through her hair. "Even if we could get past the whole hunting and horrible coaching job thing, there's no way we would ever make it as a married couple. We fight all the time--"

"I won't," he promised, shaking his head.

She scoffed, hitting his chest with the back of his hand. "You can't even propose without fighting!"

"I don't care," he said, capturing her hand in his and bringing it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her soft skin. "I could care less about all of that, Brooke. All I care about is that I'm with you, forever. No matter what. Come hell or high water, demons or ghosts, or Peyton when she's had a really bad morning."

Brooke looked over her shoulder at her best friend, laughing when the blonde sent a withering glare in Dean's direction, the middle finger on her one good hand standing front and center, before she turned back to him, unable to stop the smile that was slowly creeping up her face as she stared into his eyes.

"I told you before….you're the ONLY reason, Brooke. You're It. And I mean, It. I'm not leaving this time. I don't care how long I have to camp outside your house or outside this store. I don't care how many hours of pleading and begging with you it takes. I don't care if I even have to get back up onstage and sing another Frankie Vallie--"

"No," Peyton and Haley both chorused together, causing him to roll his eyes as Brooke laughed again.

"I don't care," he said, softer this time, staring down into her face. "I just know that you're the girl for me, Brooke Davis. You're all I want for the rest of my life. I want to marry you. Please, just…put me out of my misery, and say you'll give it a shot."

Brooke smiled, shaking her head as she felt the few tears slip from her eyes and down her cheeks. She laughed softly, arching her eyebrow as she looked up into his smirking face. "This is a really, really bad idea," she whispered softly, tilting her chin up slightly towards him.

Dean grinned, his hands coming up to cup her face gently as he lowered his face towards her. "Then we've better give it all we've got." And he pressed his lips to hers once more, relishing the feel of her arms slipping around his shoulders, and her body melding so perfectly against his own.

Peyton scoffed, shaking her head as she watched her best friend and the man she loved canoodle in the middle of the store, looking over at Haley as she held a hand to her chest, fawning over them. "Unbelievable," she said, throwing up her hand when the brunette turned to look at her. "The guy's like a cockroach. I'm never going to get rid of him."

Haley laughed, throwing her head back against the loveseat, and tossed her crinkled up napkin at the pouting blonde, grinning when her face broke into a reluctant smile. They both leaned back, watching as the event they had known was coming since Dean Winchester drove into town a week ago unfolded in front of them, both unbelievable glad that the girl who deserved the happiness most was finally getting it.

* * *

Sam grinned as he watched the scene unfold from the curb in front of Clothes Over Bros., his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the Impala. He shook his head, watching as his brother and Brooke pulled apart, smiling widely into each other's faces, and he laughed, glad that his brother was finally finding some peace in his restless life.

"Sam?"

He looked up, quickly pulling himself to his full height when he saw Millie slow her steps as she walked towards him, an adorable smile on her pretty face. He grinned at her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, unable to hide the happiness from her voice.

He shrugged, taking a few steps towards her, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his jacket. "Change of plans," he said, smiling. "My brother and I are hanging around for awhile after all."

Millicent nodded, taking a small step towards him. "A long while?" she asked hopefully, smiling up at him.

Sam looked into the glass door once again, a content smile on his face as he turned back to look into the brown eyes of the beautiful assistant, and he couldn't help the peaceful tone his voice took. "Yeah," he said, nodding as he held his hand out for hers. She grinned, taking a hold of his, and she laughed when his fingers tightened around hers. "A good, long while."

* * *

**And…that's it. Second Chances has come it's close.**

**God, I can't even begin to describe how amazing it was to share this story with you guys. You all have been so incredible and welcoming, and I just want you to know, that as cliché as this sounds, it really wouldn't have been told without you.**

**You guys made it worth it. *grin***

**So…let me know what you guys think…I'm brainstorming ideas for a sequel. Would that interest anybody?**

**I think Brooke and Dean's story is far from over, not to mention the story I just know is waiting for Millie and Sam.**

**Let me know your guys thoughts. You all have been the best reviewers a gal could ask for.**

**For readers of Stand in the Rain, my attempt at a Twilight/One Tree Hill crossover, it should be updated by the end of the week. Now that Second Chances is done--for the moment, it's my primary focus. *grin***

**Thanks for everything.**


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